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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237922">Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Grad Students (for They Are Caffeinated and Quick to Nerd Out)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash'>theemdash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stucky LotR Nerds [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anxiety, Awkward Bucky Barnes, Bad Elvish, Banter, Bearded Steve Rogers, Best Sister Becca Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Chronic Pain, College Student Bucky Barnes, Crushes, Elvish, Fangorn Forest of Pines, Fantasy References, Flirting in Lord of the Rings, Friends to Lovers, Grad Student Natasha Romanov, Grad Student Steve Rogers, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Injury, Romantic Comedy, Roommates, Siblings, Thanksgiving, The Lord of the Rings References, Wingwoman Peggy Carter, appendices, idiots to lovers, science fiction references</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:35:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>46,222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As a student returning to finish his bachelor’s degree and pick up the scattered pieces of his trashed life, Bucky has a few problems: he’s nearly ten years older than the other students, he has lingering pain from shattering his arm, and his Tolkien-obsessed roommate Steve Rogers is way too hot for his own good. If Bucky's going to get through this degree and get his life back on track, he cannot afford the distraction. Nope. No way. No distractions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stucky LotR Nerds [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Here at the Beginning of All Things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to NASBB, which provided stability and creative motivation during a time in which it was desperately needed. The mods created an environment that is so supportive and welcoming, especially to those of us new to the Stucky fandom.</p><p>Thank you to my wonderful artists, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a>. Their encouragement and brilliant ideas kept me afloat, and I am so proud of this work we constructed together. Their contributions make me as happy as if the Lady Galadriel had given me three strands of hair when I only asked for one.</p><p>Thank you also to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nospheratt">Nospheratt</a> who cheerleaded this fic throughout the drafting process and was the first person to laugh at most of the jokes. Her enthusiastic response was a light when all other lights had gone out.</p><p>This fic absolutely would not exist without <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopdetly/">sopdetly</a>, who started this project by sending me <a href="https://hips.hearstapps.com/esq.h-cdn.co/assets/17/11/esq040117chrisevans005.jpg">this picture of Chris</a> and asking, "What's happening?" I drafted a 700-word ficlet of Bucky and Steve getting together over Steve's thesis on Elvish (because I knew that would delight her). Apparently, that wasn't enough for me, and by the time I wrote 12K, realized I should just sign up for this NASBB thing she was doing. Her influence is all over this fic in so many different ways (including in the final pass she betaed and in helping me tweak the layout). Thank you for not going where I can’t follow, thank you for coming every time the beacons are lit, and thank you especially for looping an Elvish rope around me when you dove into Stucky fandom. This one's for you. 💙</p><p><b>Disclaimer 1:</b> While I did learn more Elvish than I expected for this fic, I am not even slightly versed in the language. I Tried My Best, but I'm sure mistakes were made. I did however double check every <i>Lord of the Rings</i> quote before bastardizing it and every piece of LotR ephemera mentioned is a real thing that exists. </p><p><b>Disclaimer 2:</b> I based Steve's experience going through the thesis and defense process on my own. I don't know how a linguistic thesis/defense would differ from creative writing, so I may have made up some stuff there. The college buildings are lifted directly from my university, so I went full tilt and also used their website and course offerings to create Bucky's class schedule and the academic calendar.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
      
</p><p>  </p><p>  </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h3>
<br/>
HERE AT THE BEGINNING OF ALL THINGS<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>His roommate sticks his hand out for a shake before Bucky's even through the door. Bucky follows the hand up to its face and nearly chokes on his own saliva. The guy is way more attractive than Bucky expected. Chiseled jaw barely hidden by a neatly trimmed beard, shaggy dark blond hair pinned back by a pair of horn-rim glasses, and a general absent-minded professor vibe, including a tweed jacket straining over well-muscled shoulders and biceps. If Bucky didn't know better, he'd think he mixed up his roommate and dating applications.<p>"Hey. I'm Steve." Belatedly his new roommate rushes forward to help with the stack of boxes Bucky barely managed to haul upstairs.</p><p>"Bucky," he says as they set the stack on the floor. His cheeks heat when he meets Steve's steady blue eyes, but hauling boxes upstairs in August already has him red in the face.</p><p>"Bucky. Right, you mentioned that. All the paperwork is made out for James."</p><p>"Yeah, that's me, too." <i>Which he knows, dumbass.</i> Bucky adjusts the duffel strap across his chest, easing it off his protesting shoulder. The top of the duffel brushes the hair gathered in a bun at the nape of his neck. "My middle name's Buchanan, so Bucky." He finally provides the handshake Steve requested. Good grip, firm. Not that Bucky's noticing anything about the size or strength of his roommate's hands.</p><p>"Ah!" The smile lighting Steve's face is instantly crushable, and Bucky has to squash every instinct to flirt. He's lived here for all of ten seconds and he's got to make it through the semester. He's ruined enough living situations with awkward hook-ups. One roommate—pre-therapy, during his first attempt to finish his gen ed—also had a short fuse, which culminated in them angrily making out and Bucky getting asked to leave a month later. No, this apartment is close to campus and Steve is his last chance for an age-appropriate roommate. He will not make this awkward by making out with him.</p><p>Ogling him, maybe. When he's not looking.</p><p>"You got anything else?" Steve asks.</p><p>"Some stuff downstairs." Bucky shuffles his hands along the duffel strap, tightening his left fist around the fabric. He doesn't like leaving his stuff unattended, but he doubts anyone's running off with his weights and books. "I'd kind of like to lay eyes on my room first." His eyes catch on the full-size bed shoved in the corner of the room, and then to the number of doors leading off the main room. He scans the space, but there's just the kitchen to the right of the entry. "The listing said this was a two bedroom."</p><p>Steve points to the bed. "One." And then he points to the left door, presumably to the actual bedroom. "Two. I stay up late to research, so it's easier if I just crash here."</p><p>Grad student, Bucky remembers. Single-minded focus on thesis and/or dissertation. Which tends to make for eccentric roommates and inexpensive living arrangements when they get creative about the definition of 'what is a bedroom.' Also explains why every email from Steve arrived in the middle of the night. </p><p>"And the living room?" In addition to the full-size bed, two abused thrift-store armchairs flank a coffee table piled with books. A dresser sits where a TV and gaming console would be in usual college apartments (also piled with books). Enough standing lamps scatter the room to prevent someone from bothering to change the ceiling light, which Bucky is absolutely going to bother changing once he stows his stuff.</p><p>Steve quirks an eyebrow. "Are you living? In this very room?" He claps his hands when Bucky nods. "All qualifications have been met: living room." He bites his lip, very clearly unaware that the action combined with the sarcasm is tapping the button that engages Bucky's Flirting Mode. "If it's a problem, we can figure something out."</p><p>The solution of them sharing the bedroom flashes in Bucky's mind. "Ah, no, I'm sure it'll be fine. I just… I have some weights I usually like to keep somewhere I can lift. Like, in a living room?" He catches his smile to keep it friendly.</p><p>"Well then it would be a lifting room."</p><p>Bucky blinks at the dry delivery, not entirely sure if Steve is serious or fucking with him, but then Steve jerks his chin at the front door. </p><p>"We better finish getting your stuff before someone tries to swipe it." </p><p>"Right." Bucky, a little perplexed, pushes open the bedroom door and takes a quick look around—the expected full-size bed (a must), a dresser, and a desk with—surprise, surprise—a stack of books on it. </p><p>He drops the duffel and collects the books, figuring they must be Steve's, but stops at the worn spine. God, when was the last time he actually read <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>? Used to be he read it every couple years, but now when he gets the urge, he spends twelve hours watching the Extended Editions. He flips through <i>Fellowship</i>, noticing heavy annotations in the margins, including delicate squiggles of Elvish script. He's really better with it as a spoken language—and in an English alphabet. </p><p>"Buck?"</p><p>Bucky deposits the books in an armchair as he jogs to catch Steve at the door. Trying to play it casual, he asks, "So, what's your thesis about?"</p><p>The verbal drowning that follows about Tolkien's conlangs is more than Bucky bargained for (and he's barely able to say more than "uh-huh" in the midst of Steve's assault), but makes it all the harder for him to ignore that by the time they get all of Bucky's things upstairs, Bucky has a horrible, horrible crush.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>Bucky never would have guessed breakfast would be a problem, but here it is: Bucky, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, realizing there is no table while Steve lightly snores on his bed ten feet away.<p>Somehow, he missed the table's absence last night, but it figures, the guy doesn't have a TV and seems to have an aversion to bookcases despite owning a small library; of course he doesn't have a kitchen table.</p><p>A quick assessment of the room yields two options: </p><p>(1) The breakfast bar, notably named for its use for breakfast, currently covered with an assortment of books and Bucky's boxes. He really should have finished unpacking last night, but after listening to Steve talk Tolkien, he had a hankering to reread <i>The Hobbit</i>.</p><p>(2) The coffee table, conveniently located in front of two armchairs more comfortable than they look, also covered in books. (Seriously, every horizontal surface, including Steve's bed, has books on it.) Both chairs are more or less prime positions for watching Steve sleep, which is one hundred percent totally normal roommate behavior, but maybe he can shift the angle of the chair? And glue his eyes to his phone?</p><p>He's almost convinced himself the armchair is safe when he glances at Steve, hair falling across his eyes, lips slightly parted, the stretched-out neck of his t-shirt revealing the kissable hollows of collar bones. Bucky immediately redirects for the bedroom, nudging the door open and closed with his foot, only sloshing a little milk on his hand.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, banishing inappropriate thoughts about his roommate's throat before clearing some space on the desk. <i>It's been like twelve hours, Barnes, pull yourself together.</i></p><p>Somehow the pep talk doesn't work.</p><p>He checks his notifications, going through the usual morning routine, and trying not to think about the ridiculously attractive Tolkien nerd sleeping in the next room. Finishing college is all about turning a new leaf, forging a new path with a career and some fucking self-respect at the end of it. Fantasizing about his scorching hot roommate with a beard Bucky wants pressed against his thighs is a distraction to those goals. Bucky—emphatically—does not <i>need</i> a boyfriend or a fuck buddy. Especially right now. School. Studying. Career. <i>Focus</i>.</p><p>A text notification pops up, covering half of the Instagram story he's pretending to read. Becca's name is about all he registers before clicking it open.</p><p>
  <i>Bring me coffee.</i>
</p><p>He stares at it, trying to decide whether or not his sister means it, but then she's typing again.</p><p>
  <i>Oh shit, your classes start today, don't they?<br/>
I'm going to have to bring myself coffee.<br/>
D:</i>
</p><p>Bucky snorts and briefly wonders if he can surprise his sister with coffee on the weekend. Maybe he can borrow the washer, too. In between Steve explaining elves, hobbits, and the social structure of Middle Earth (without prompting), he mentioned the washer is in a basement that can double as Shelob's lair. (Which, yes, even this helpful information about the building included a <i>Lord of the Rings</i> sidebar in which Steve explained Shelob was a giant spider lurking in Cirith Ungol, but mostly it was about the terrifying laundry situation.)</p><p><i>Poor you</i>, he shoots back, deciding any mention of visiting should probably wait until he's got a grip on how difficult and time consuming his classwork will be. He registered for five classes, which is maybe a lot, but finishing his degree as fast as humanly possible is part of the plan. Fast and with a good GPA, so grad school remains an option. He's had enough options shut off.</p><p>Becca ignores the razz and skips to the next topic: <i>How's your roommate?</i></p><p>Bucky pauses, unsure if he should confess any thought he's had about Steve. He's not about to tell his sister the fantasies he's already had involving Steve's lips, beard, and being held down by those bulging biceps, and he's pretty sure telling Becca he was suckered into a one-bedroom apartment will just make her unnecessarily worried.</p><p>He licks his lips and goes with the irrefutable facts.</p><p>
  <i>Grad student. Nerd. Obsessive.</i>
</p><p>After thinking another second, he adds, <i>Kind of an asshole in a charming way.</i></p><p><i>Sounds like you</i>, she sends back entirely too quickly.</p><p><i>Aww, you think I'm charming? </i> 😊</p><p>He abandons the phone to pull on skinny jeans and a ratty band t-shirt that will help him pass for a couple years younger. Returning to school at practically thirty was never the plan, but neither was breaking his arm and going through a butt-load of surgeries, physical rehab, and therapy. He debates between hair up or down, and decides there's enough heat clinging to the month that a high pony is least likely to bother him. He digs his backpack from a box labeled <i>school</i> and tosses in the latest book in the <i>Shannara</i> series and his Anatomy and Nutrition textbooks.</p><p>When he gets back to his phone, Becca's sent a wall of text about the most recent sci-fi novel she's read, something about a murderbot that doesn't actually murder anyone, that's just what it calls itself. Bucky doesn't have time to get into it, but what Becca describes sounds exactly like the kind of book she loves.</p><p><i>Is that your next pick for a swap?</i> he sends while he searches out where he dropped his keys last night. He almost made a joke about the Keys of Orthanc when Steve handed him keys to the building, mailbox, and apartment, but Steve was already explaining the history of the Doors of Durin, so any reference Bucky might make seemed perfunctory.</p><p>Ah-ha! Keys located inside his steel-toed boot, found when putting on boot. How the fuck did they get in there? Admittedly, he was distracted, craning his neck to check out Steve while he scribbled in a notebook and chewed on the end of a pencil, but still.</p><p>His phone chimes with another text from Becca:</p><p><i>Maybe. I'll send something as soon as you actually send me your address.</i> 😜</p><p>He rolls his eyes and shoulders his bag, quickly swiping: <i>Tonight. Class now.</i></p><p>Shit. If she's got a book for him, that means he needs a book for her. He hasn't been thinking about books for Becca while he's been worried about chasing financial aid, registering for classes, and finding an apartment closer to campus. One does not simply go back to college, it turns out.</p><p>Steve's still asleep when he heads out, so he turns off all the lights and tries to be quiet when he shuts and locks the door. It's maybe a little weird leaving his roommate asleep in the living room, but considering his last roommate was his sister's ex-boyfriend who he also hooked up with, there are more uncomfortable living situations.</p><p>The phone buzzes again when he hits the street.</p><p>
  <i>Okay, seriously, any chance you can bring me that coffee?<br/>
After class?<br/>
No?</i>
</p><p>He responds with a single emoji, middle finger proudly displayed, but the gesture is fond. He hasn't told Becca how he feels about going back to school, but it's no surprise she filled his morning with nonsensical chatter to keep him distracted enough to defuse his anxiety. Becca responds with her own flipped bird and a heart a few minutes later. Then a coffee with a sobbing face. The little shit.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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  </p>
</div>Coming back to the apartment, his shoulder's throbbing and his brain feels as though it's been puréed and poured back into his skull. The first day is never easy, Bucky reminds himself as he crests the stairs. But maybe he could have been better prepared. Like, he could have read the entire textbook before the first class, or he could have invented time travel so he could take the course <i>before</i> taking the course.<p>It didn't help his discomfort when some girl with heavy eyeliner and a thick European accent asked if he was the professor.</p><p>And then, turns out the professor's only a year older than Bucky.</p><p>Yeah. Real confidence booster there.</p><p>Bucky sighs as he gets the key in the lock, feeling old and stupid and more than a little like he made a bad choice and doesn't actually belong here.</p><p>A quiet "oh shit" greets Bucky as he opens the door, followed by the sounds of books falling and a self-conscious, desperate laugh.</p><p>"Steve?" The man in question is under the covers, face beet red, hair damp, glasses elsewhere, books in even more of a disarray around the coffee table than when Bucky saw it this morning. Also a pair of chinos hang off the edge of the bed and suddenly Bucky's as beet red as Steve is.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <a href="https://i.imgur.com/TcLbzin.jpg">
      
    </a>
  </p>
</div>"I, uh." Steve clenches the bedcovers tighter, pulling them up under his chin. "I didn't know when you were getting home."<p>The thought smacks into Bucky's consciousness: <i>He's under the covers in his underwear.</i> No, don't think about it! Don't think about what kind of underwear is clinging to his ass or what color it is. Don't think about how muscular his thighs likely are and how his calves must be painstakingly sculpted considering how easily he mounted the stairs yesterday.</p><p>Don't think about <i>mounting</i>.</p><p><i>Christ</i>.</p><p>"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry," he says, like he should apologize that Steve was <i>naked</i> in their <i>living room</i>. "I'll be sure to give you a copy of my schedule."</p><p>"That would be awesome." Steve's smooth voice clips around the words, his eyes still kind of wide and surprised and locked on Bucky.</p><p><i>Move</i>, something inside him screams. <i>Or at least stop staring at his shoulders!</i></p><p>Bucky swallows, which is—technically—movement.</p><p>"I should—" He points to his door. "So you can—" He flaps a hand at the bed, trying not to think about Steve sliding his legs from between the sheets and letting the navy blue bedspread drape around his hips.</p><p>"Right. Thanks. Sorry about this." Steve's wince makes Bucky want to apologize again, mostly for thinking way too much about Steve's body, but the idea of them getting into an apology loop grates against his skin. He smothers the embarrassed impulse and carves his lips into a wry smirk.</p><p>"You know, this is why most people wouldn't call this a two-bedroom apartment." Yes, that sounds normal and smooth and like something a totally un-infatuated roommate would say.</p><p>A laugh chokes out of Steve's throat. "Yeah, starting to see the error of my ways." The bedspread is still bunched around his throat, a reminder it's time for Bucky to make an exit.</p><p>"We'll work it out." Bucky spins his keys around his finger and winks at Steve before he can catch himself. A different embarrassment flaring on his skin, he leaves Steve to sort out his junk in privacy. Bucky's safely behind his door before he unpacks that thought and face-plants in his pillow.</p><p>He ignores the noises from the living room, choosing instead to shove his earbuds deep in his ears and blast Marc Gunn's "Don't Go Drinking with Hobbits." It's only been one day and Bucky's not sure if finding his hot roommate half dressed in the living room is a temptation greater than the One Ring or the motherfucking light of Elendil. Either way, it's going to be a long semester.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Banner by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a> with art by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a> (<a href="https://i.imgur.com/MQtIywJ.jpg">click for full size banner</a>)<br/>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a><br/>- Illustration by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Going Out Your Door Is a Dangerous Business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h3>
<br/>
GOING OUT YOUR DOOR IS A DANGEROUS BUSINESS<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>In one week of knowing Steve Rogers, Bucky has learned these things:<ul>(1) Steve Rogers sleeps like the dead. On the morning Bucky decided to eat more than a bowl of cereal, he missed the timer on the microwave, and in his rush to catch it before it dinged, knocked a pan of scrambled eggs off the stove. Eggs stayed in the pan, so breakfast was not ruined, and Steve didn't even roll over.

<p>(2) Steve Rogers doesn't own pajamas. He usually remembers to take off whatever jacket he's been wearing for the day, but otherwise he only changes his clothes when he hits the shower. Every day: new trousers, fresh shirt, and a cycle of tweed jackets that Bucky suspects is how Steve keeps track of the days.</p>

<p>(3) Steve Rogers's physique is as cut as Bucky feared. He catches a glimpse while Steve is pulling on his shirt—the bathroom door is cracked, and it is entirely not Bucky's fault that he sees bulging pectorals and a six pack he would like to outline with his tongue. Bucky's not sure how Steve keeps in shape since he hasn't joined Bucky in any of his weightlifting sessions and doesn't seem to leave the apartment much, but whatever magic made him look like this, Bucky would like to thank it (and curse it).</p>

<p>(4) Steve Rogers only needs glasses because he stares at books all day long and only rests his eyes when he collapses at night. Bucky knows this because when they eat dinner around the coffee table, Bucky in the armchair with his feet propped on the table's edge and Steve sitting cross-legged on his bed, Steve pushes his glasses up to hold his hair and can still read his books at close range and the take-out labels where they sit on the breakfast bar.</p>

<p>(5) Steve Rogers has a laugh that crawls inside Bucky's chest and fills him with joy. He mostly chuckles softly, staring at whatever's in his hands, but when Bucky can really surprise him with a well-placed joke, Steve throws his head back and laughs unselfconsciously. Bucky's been working on his comedic timing.</p>

<p>(6) Steve Rogers's Elvish pronunciation is shit. His tongue's too hard on the slithering language, attacking it rather than caressing it. Bucky's sure his own tongue's more nimble than that (it is in his head, certainly), but every time Steve whispers a poem, Bucky twitches and has to stop himself from correcting the linguist.</p>
</ul>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>"You really aren't into the night life, huh?"<p>The question startles Bucky from his Anatomy notes, and he has to pop out an earbud. "What?" Brobdingnagian Bards still play from the speakers until he can thumb the pause on his phone. "Uh. Not so much."</p>
<p>From his position lying on the unmade bed, Steve pushes his glasses to the top of his head and re-crosses his ankles, clearly ready for a study break. "But, you're undergrad, right?"</p>
<p>Bucky scoffs. "Undergrad and twenty-nine. Kind of makes you want to skip going to parties with kids just figuring out their alcohol tolerance." </p>
<p>"Right." Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. "I kind of forgot we're the same age."</p>
<p>"Late bloomer," Bucky mumbles, putting his feet up on the coffee table and bringing his Anatomy book back into view. He doesn't pop the earbuds back in, but he thinks about it. Anything to avoid the inevitable question of <i>why</i> Bucky's so late to start college.</p>
<p>"Sorry. I'm an asshole."</p>
<p>Bucky's eyes drift up from his notes. Steve's furrowed brow and chagrined look is enough to soften any dings to Bucky's ego. "I try not to call my roommates assholes within the first week."</p>
<p>Steve rolls to his back, raising his hands into the air and using them to count off his points. "Well, it's Monday night, so technically you've lived here over a week, and I'm the one who called me an asshole." Papers crunch under him as he props up on one elbow. The apology is clear across his features, and even if Bucky didn't have a crush on him, Steve Rogers's Sincerity Eyes are impossible to deny.</p>
<p>"Then, yeah." Bucky shrugs. "You're an asshole." He lowers his knees slightly and peeks over the book to let Steve know he's only kidding.</p>
<p>"Glad we have that covered." </p>
<p>Bucky waits for the conversation to continue, but Steve starts shuffling papers and books again. </p>
<p>The transition's a little awkward, but Bucky can appreciate awkward. Especially when it comes with quiet. That's the best thing about living with Steve, the quiet focus. No loud music playing. No requests to hit a party. No wheedling conversations filled with small talk. Bucky's class load is heavy enough without the additional distractions.</p>
<p>Because watching Steve study is distraction enough.</p>
<p>The furrow between his brows grows deeper when he switches from one book to another. His socked feet jiggle in the rhythm of whatever poem he's reading. He whispers his notes as he writes them, Elvish sliding between his teeth. Pencils scatter his bed, lost in books, under sheets, or behind his ear, and every study session he starts muttering curses (mostly in English) until he locates one of them. When he's really lost in a thought, he scratches his nails through his beard, pinky pushing his lower lip, and Bucky loses his damn mind watching the changing shape of Steve's mouth.</p>
<p>But at least it's quiet.</p>
<p>Bucky's about to pop his earbuds back in when Steve rolls across all his books and drops his feet to the floor. "I know I just gave you shit for not having a night life, and this isn't like, some crazy plan to drag the shut-in on a wild bender." The sheepish, self-conscious look grows naturally on Steve's face. "But I could use some time away from—" He holds his hands over the bed, like he's about to cast a spell. "—this," he intones with a grimace. "You want to get a drink or something?"</p>
<p>Bucky would like to say he didn't slam his books shut and leap out of the chair, but he's standing so fast he can't be sure. "Let me get my shoes."</p>
<p>They're out the door a few minutes later, Bucky with his hands jammed firmly in his pockets to keep them under control, and Steve leading the way to an off-campus bar.</p>
<p>The phrase "off-campus bar" contains the sweetest words Bucky has heard all week. He grew up in the city, but it changed in the time he's been away, and restaurants, coffee shops, and bars haven't stayed where he left them.</p>
<p>"What is it you're studying again?" Steve turns, walking backward a few steps before twisting again to avoid a garbage bag spilling into the street. "It's sports-something, right?"</p>
<p>"Kinesiology, technically." He damn near shattered his arm when he was twenty, and after getting it all fixed up with metal rods and going through rehab, he has some idea of what it would take to be a physical therapist. It seems like something he might like doing, too, helping people recover something of who they used to be.</p>
<p>"Huh." The surprised tone and the up-and-down eyeing make Bucky bite his lip.</p>
<p>"Surprised I can even pronounce 'kinesiology'?" Steve wouldn't be the first to assume Bucky's little more than a weight-lifting jock.</p>
<p>"Oh, shit, no." Steve waves him off. "I'm an asshole, remember?" He laughs suddenly and his smile melts any lingering frustrations about Steve's assumptions. "No, honestly, I'm sorry. My head has just been <i>so into</i> my thesis. If I don't graduate this semester my tuition is going to be out the nose next semester. Funding."</p>
<p>Despite only saying the word "funding," Bucky guesses whatever stipend Steve is on must run out. Which explains the phony two-bedroom ad; got to make that money stretch.</p>
<p>"So, what if you do graduate? What then?"</p>
<p>Steve shrugs. "Not sure yet. If I apply to doctoral programs, those don't start until the Fall, but I also have no idea how I'm going to manage filling out applications right now." He stops dead and then turns around. "Shit. I walked right past." </p>
<p>They backtrack and Steve holds the door open to the quiet, dimly lit bar. The far wall has a framed map of Middle Earth, the closer wall has posters from the three <i>Lord of the Rings</i> movies (all signed), and an uruk-hai towers in one of the corners. Bucky blinks hard and turns to stare at Steve, but Steve walks past and up to the bar, knocking on it and hailing the barkeep to order them both pints—<i>pints</i>, because, yes, they come in pints.</p>
<p>Bucky feels like he <i>should</i> have known about this place, but he can't think of a single post that ever mentioned a Tolkien-themed bar a few blocks from his apartment. </p>
<p>Steve nudges Bucky's elbow. "Is it a lot? Sorry. I didn't think about how…." </p>
<p>"No, it's great," Bucky says, taking his beer. "Never seen a place like it."</p>
<p>"Doubt there are many places like it." Steve takes them to a corner shaded by artificial trees in a homemade-but-not-inaccurate rendition of Rivendell. "I tried writing my thesis here—you know, get into the mood—but I could never get much work done."</p>
<p>"How—?" Bucky asks, intending it to be a longer question, but the one word is all Steve needs to unleash the flood that is his long history of admiring <i>Lord of the Rings</i>, finding beauty in the languages, and finally discovering how intricately the languages were created and how studying those languages might help linguists understand how language develops.</p>
<p>Okay, he'll admit it, Steve is a bigger nerd than Bucky.</p>
<p>Which is unfortunate only in that it makes Steve way more attractive.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>"Sorry," Steve says, shoulders hunching in a wince. The lapels of his jacket bunch, and Bucky wants to lean over and smooth them out. "I wanted to get away from my thesis and I'm just sitting here yammering all about it."<p>"I don't mind." Bucky clasps his hands under the table, trying not to look like he's been hanging on Steve's every word.</p>
<p>Steve tilts his head, eyebrow cocked in a knowing look. "You <i>don't</i> mind, do you? Huh. Guess I'm lucky you're the one who responded to that ad."</p>
<p>"I'm lucky you posted it." Bucky swallows hard when his words echo in his mind. <i>Wow, Buck, can you sound any more hard up for this guy?</i></p>
<p>"Okay." Steve leans away from the table, fingers drumming on the edge. "No more Elvish or orcs or hobbits for the rest of the night. Promise."</p>
<p>Bucky smothers his smile to banish the hearts from his eyes. "Okay. Sounds good."</p>
<p>Steve lasts five minutes. Bucky doesn't mind.</p>
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</div>"Thirty-two," Bucky says with a quick jerk of his chin. Any acknowledgement is enough to get Steve to stop staring at him and start reciting from his notes again.<p>Steve says it's not distracting when Bucky lifts weights in the living room, but every time Bucky changes into his workout clothes and starts going through his usual routine, Steve starts reading passages from his books aloud or reciting whatever poem he's working through. Bucky concentrates on counting reps and not correcting Steve's Elvish pronunciation, even when he butchers a word so badly Bucky can't divine the meaning of the sentence.</p>
<p>He's quiet while Bucky's studying or reading—mostly—but when Bucky's lifting weights or doing sit-ups, Steve can't shut up.</p>
<p>Sometimes Steve pauses, like just now, mouth poised half open and expectant, so Bucky will nod, say a number to keep his place, or form a tight-lipped smile. Every time, Steve ducks his head back to the book in his hands, and reads the next sentence, remarks on the next thing, cuts Bucky with the next mispronounced word.</p>
<p>He has half a notion Steve likes it when he works out. It's based on only three weeks of observation, but the telling is in the consistency. It's not as obvious as men who took up exercise routines that matched Bucky's interests, or who asked Bucky for help with their form. Those were blatant plays to spend time with Bucky. But Steve keeps reciting Elvish, which maybe is a form a courting for him, fuck if Bucky knows enough about Steve Rogers.</p>
<p>He's worked up a good sweat and is in the middle of switching weights when Steve says, "Hey, when you're done, how about we go for pizza?"</p>
<p>"Pizza?" Bucky's skeptical, mostly because he's certain his old favorite pizza place closed down.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know a place." Steve laughs brightly, a blush attractively lighting his cheeks. "No elves there, promise."</p>
<p>"I'm not complaining." Bucky shrugs one shoulder, twisting his good arm behind his back to wipe at the sweat trickling down his spine.</p>
<p>Steve continues talking about the pizza place, describing where it is and what kind of pizza they serve, and Bucky's half listening as he considers cutting his routine short. Either way, he'll need a shower, so he grabs the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head. The collar catches on his hair tie, and Bucky shakes his hair away from his face, suddenly realizing Steve stopped speaking.</p>
<p>Lips slightly parted, glasses pushed up to his head, ice blue eyes locked on Bucky's half-naked body. Bucky grins, appreciating that for once he's caught Steve tongue-tied.</p>
<p>"What were you saying about the pizza place?" Bucky tries to keep his question casual as he gathers his hair into a bun. He arches his back a little, letting his shorts shift with the movement.</p>
<p>Steve suddenly snaps to life again: "I bet you could make a pizza out of lembas bread."</p>
<p>The non-sequitur strikes Bucky dumb and it's a good thing because otherwise he'd have fallen over laughing. Double so when Steve starts explaining what lembas bread is and guessing at what the calorie count of it must be.</p>
<p>Bucky starts lifting again, content to listen to Steve ramble about Elvish cooking, which he does louder every time Bucky catches Steve looking at him. Bucky tries to school his grin, but the idea that he might fluster Steve as much as Steve flusters him… it's too sweet.</p>
<p>He decides he has to work out shirtless more often.</p>
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</div>In an effort to not rely entirely on his roommate's generosity and knowledge of amazing local restaurants, Bucky agrees to join some classmates for an early dinner after Intro to Kinesiology on Friday. He shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to stay in the center of the group so he feels less like a hobbit among dwarves.<p>Safety can be found in a good corner seat, except he's quickly hemmed in when it's obvious the table's too small for their party—no need to switch tables, though, it's fine, just add more chairs because the young have no need for elbow room or personal space. Ha ha! When the conversation turns to shows they watched as kids, Bucky absorbs the entire uninspired pub house menu, going cross-eyed over the kitschy university logos in colors as loud and obnoxious as the blaring music.</p>
<p>Dinner is awful, start to finish, and by the time Bucky's paid his tab and unclenched his jaw enough to share an enthusiastic farewell, his arm muscles are clamped around his metal bones, sending spasms all the way into his neck. </p>
<p>Steve's so distracted when Bucky arrives home, Bucky doesn't ask before taking over the bathroom, running the hottest water he can stand over his aggravated muscles. The pain's rarely this bad, but he should have paid attention to the signs and gotten out of there before they started sharing stories about high school sports and almost-could-have-beens.</p>
<p>He presses his arm to his chest, wrapping his fingers around his forearm and squeezing. Fingertips dig into the pain stretched exactly along the metal rod in his arm. </p>
<p>
  <i>Not gonna break, Barnes; not gonna fuck up your arm any more than it's already fucked. That damage is done.</i>
</p>
<p>Shockingly, this kind of positive thinking doesn't exactly work. But the combination of heat and massage and getting-a-fucking-grip make it so that when he forgets and reaches for his towel with his left hand, his arm whimpers more than screams. </p>
<p>Dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, he grabs Cherie Priest's <i>Brimstone</i> from his backpack and flops into the armchair across from Steve. </p>
<p>Pillow stuffed under his chest, tweed jacket abandoned for the evening, Steve's attention focuses on the notebook in front of him. A single notebook, with a stack of books shoved to one side—not his usual study set up. He makes long strokes with his pencil, not the quick rapid-fire loops when he's taking notes. His head is tilted away, showing the long lean line of his neck. Bucky does not need to indulge fantasies about licking that expanse, so he interrupts Steve's train of thought.</p>
<p>"What are you working on?"</p>
<p>The inarticulate noise Steve makes is almost as funny as the pencil jumping out of his hand. "The fuck, Bucky?"</p>
<p>Bucky stifles most of his laugh. "Sorry. Thought you knew I was here."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but, <i>quiet</i>." </p>
<p>The laugh is less stifled this time.</p>
<p>"Wait." Steve twists to the window, dark behind the drawn shade. "I thought your class ended earlier."</p>
<p>Bucky crosses his ankles on the coffee table, stretching out his legs. "Went to dinner with some classmates. Do not recommend."</p>
<p>Steve winces and closes his notebook, rolling to his side to face Bucky. "Bad restaurant or bad company?"</p>
<p>"Bad both." He hugs the book to his chest, arms crossed in front of him. "I mean, they're fine people, I guess, but I'm eight years older than most of them. Not a lot of shared life experience."</p>
<p>"Hence the 'do not recommend.'"</p>
<p>"Hence."</p>
<p>Steve hums and then kicks the blanket tangled around his feet, nearly falls over trying to stand up, and heads into the kitchen. "Did you eat something half-way decent, or do you want me to heat you a plate too? I think there's enough pizza left for both of us."</p>
<p>Bucky considers for a second: he ate most of his soggy burger, but he likes the idea of Steve bringing him food. "Yeah, I could go for a slice." He pushes up, peering over the back of the armchair as Steve adds another slice to the plate. The not-lembas pizza lasted longer than either of them thought it would, Steve joking that one small bite could fill the stomach of a grown man. Steve laughed all the harder when Bucky belched and said he ate four, and then he explained Bucky's joke to him. Which made Bucky laugh harder.</p>
<p>Maybe one day Steve will catch on that Bucky's smitten over his references and keeps a stack of fantasy books next to his bed, but considering how he still hasn't noticed that Bucky changed the overhead light, Bucky's not expecting it any time soon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a><br/>- Illustration by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a></p>
<p>- I was asked how I came up with all the LotR references that go into this fic, and I actually recorded the inspiration process for one, so here's how that last joke about lembas pizza went from inspiration to page:</p>
<p>Steve is reheating food.<br/><i>Me: What food would he reheat? Oh. In the last scene they went for pizza.</i><br/>Steve babbled in the last scene about lembas possibly being used to make pizza.<br/><i>Me: Call it 'not-lembas pizza.'</i><br/>They've had that pizza in their fridge for like four days.<br/><i>Me: Huh, that's a long time for pizza to last in an all-dude apartment. BECAUSE ONE SMALL BITE CAN FILL THE STOMACH OF A GROWN MAN. OMG.</i><br/>And then the joke writes itself.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Keep It Secret, Keep It Safe</h2></a>
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KEEP IT SECRET, KEEP IT SAFE<br/>
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</div>Sleep doesn't come easy most nights, but it's rare that pain keeps him awake. Usually the twitching, tensing muscles, the feeling that the metal beneath his skin is grinding against bone, can be defused by redirecting his thoughts or taking another pain killer with a sleep aid, but tonight he can't get comfortable and his mind keeps focusing on the fear that one day his arm's going to break again and he's going to lose more time fixing it, or that this time everything will stay broken.<p>"Fuck," he whispers, kicking off sheets and clutching his left arm to his chest. His bare feet touch the cold wood and he centers himself on that discomfort.</p>
<p>The light's still on under the door, even though it's well past midnight. In the month since he's moved in, he's gotten used to Steve's nocturnal schedule, but he still doesn't understand how Steve sleeps through Bucky making breakfast every morning. Bucky grabs the paperback closest to his bed and shuffles to the door, not bothering to put on a shirt or pull back his hair. At least if Steve's still awake, he can read in an armchair instead of fighting to prop himself up with pillows.</p>
<p>The hinges creak, rending the quiet of the apartment and startling Bucky as much as the noise startles Steve. "Fuck," Bucky hisses. "Sorry."</p>
<p>"Nah, it's fine. I was starting to fall asleep and that jolt of adrenaline is exactly what I needed. Shit, Buck." Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He's half under the covers, tweed jacket hanging off the dresser and powder blue t-shirt tight across his chest. He pushes up to an elbow when Bucky cuts across a pile of books to get to what has quickly become "his" armchair. "Couldn't sleep?"</p>
<p>The sincerity in Steve's voice is thick but Bucky prefers the sarcasm, so he chuckles and says, "Nah, you're keeping me up all night with your page turning, you punk." Bucky settles his left arm across his chest, making sure it looks natural and not like he's supporting it. </p>
<p>Steve's glasses are at just the right angle to obscure his eyes, but his grin has a feral glint to it. "Oh, so you decided to distract me instead?"</p>
<p>Seriously, Steve has no idea how much that sounds like flirting to Bucky, but they've kept up this aggressive banter long enough that he's not about to back down from it. "If me reading is a distraction." </p>
<p>Steve licks his lip, like maybe he's considering it, but then he juts his chin at Bucky. "What are you reading?"</p>
<p>Honestly, Bucky has no idea what he grabbed. The stack of paperbacks on the bedside table constantly rotates and it's just as likely to be C.S. Lewis as Octavia Butler. Tonight, though, it's Margaret Atwood.</p>
<p>He flips it around one-handed and holds it up to Steve, who has no trouble reading the cover. </p>
<p>"<i>The Handmaid's Tale.</i> You reading that for class?"</p>
<p>How many times had someone assumed the books Bucky chucked in his gym bag were required reading? "Uh, no. My sister and I trade books every now and then. I got this one in the mail a few days ago." It had taken Becca almost a month to pick the next read; Bucky was still deciding what to send her.</p>
<p>Steve cocks his head, but Bucky still can't see his eyes. "I don't think you mentioned a sister."</p>
<p>"Well, she's not a hobbit."</p>
<p>Steve laughs so hard he throws himself to his back. Bucky can only imagine what their neighbors think of this late-night guffaw, but the twitter-pated flutter in Bucky's chest is a clear indication of what <i>he</i> thinks of it.</p>
<p>When Steve's laughter dies off, his finger pokes the air, a flag of surrender. "Okay. I deserve that." </p>
<p>"Becca," Bucky offers, shifting the conversation back to the original topic. "We got in the habit of exchanging books a few years ago." Pre-bone break, a long gap when Bucky hated the world, and then renewed again at the suggestion of his therapist. It had been a good way to reconnect with Becca before he was willing to apologize.</p>
<p>"That's cool." Steve returns to his side, this time with his glasses pushed up and pinning back his hair. His eyes are still bright with his laugh, and everything about him is relaxed and open in a way Bucky hasn't seen from him before. "No siblings for me. And Mom isn't all that interested in what I'm rereading. 'I read those books once, Steven.'" His voice shifts to a high pitch chiding Bucky assumes must be an accurate impression of Ma Rogers.</p>
<p>"Maybe you should consider branching out."</p>
<p>Steve gasps and clutches whatever books are nearest him to his chest. Fuck if he isn't completely adorable in addition to being utterly fuckable.</p>
<p>Bucky raises his right hand. "Only a suggestion, pal. You can stay in Middle Earth as long as you like."</p>
<p>He pushes the books back, shedding his impression of a hobbit being asked to renounce second breakfast. "No, I know. Just… ugh, not now. I have to stay focused." Steve slices his hand from his brow to his books. "No time for anything new at the moment."</p>
<p>Bucky bites back the comment that <i>he's</i> new, but figures Steve's thinking doesn't really apply to roommates covering half the rent. It probably does apply to relationships, and maybe casual hook-ups. So, Bucky's not the only one setting boundaries here.</p>
<p>"How many more weeks you got until it's due, or whatever?"</p>
<p>A squint of concentration, and then Steve's pressing his thumb to his brow. "About a month before I turn it in to my committee, but then there's the defense and final revisions. It's all over before Thanksgiving." </p>
<p>God, that sounds tight. Especially given the growing stacks of books Steve must still be reading. Bucky crosses his ankles on the coffee table, pant leg catching the corner on his first attempt. "Guess I know what you'll be thankful for this year."</p>
<p>Steve starts transferring the books scattered on the bed to more stable stacks. "Mmm, yeah: surviving." Steve laughs at his own joke, an absolute dork move, but Bucky can't help chuckling along with him.</p>
<p>"Most of it's written." Steve lifts one of his notebooks in a lazy salute before nudging it onto the table. "But I've got more research to finish, quotes to grab, that kind of thing. Oh, and illustrations."</p>
<p>"Illustrations?"</p>
<p>Steve's long fingers slide down a smaller stack, a gentle touch caressing the spines. The stacks look haphazard to Bucky, but it's obvious Steve has an order, even if it takes him a second to find the leather-bound sketchbook. He tilts it, gently sliding two books off it, and then mimes a toss before actually sending it over the coffee table to Bucky. The leather cover is soft with an embossed tree of life intertwining a circle and reaching out to a brass closure in the shape of a leaf. The sketchbook looks like it could fit alongside the Red Book of Westmarch in the library at Minas Tirith.</p>
<p>The thick pages inside are filled with artwork from <i>Lord of the Rings</i>. Some of the pictures are familiar—Elijah Wood and Liv Tyler and Viggo Mortensen in their roles as hobbits, elves, and rangers—but others are clearly drawn from the descriptions in the books, or are characters who don't appear in the movies, but who Bucky recognizes instantly. Each piece of art is detailed and highly realistic, beautiful images Bucky would assume had been created by a professional artist. He's about to say something horribly complimentary, when he turns the page to find an elf that looks distinctly like Steve. The elf's clean shaven with long hair but has Steve's jaw and that pensive pinch between heavy brows. Bucky laughs and turns the book to Steve, who's settled deeper into his pillow, covers pulled up over his shoulder.</p>
<p>"Wishful thinking?"</p>
<p>Steve shrugs. "I don't think I can pull off the long hair. You on the other hand…."</p>
<p>Bucky snorts and flips his hair over his shoulder. "Think I'm more of a Ranger."</p>
<p>Steve's voice slips into a whisper. "One of the Dúnedain."</p>
<p>Bucky turns back to the book, trying his best to hide his smile and blush. No need for Steve to know how big of a crush Bucky used to have on Aragorn.</p>
<p>After the portraits is a series of locations, most of which are at least inspired by the New Zealand sets, though Bucky can tell where Steve took his own liberties. "Wow. God, these are beautiful. How much of this is supposed to end up in your thesis?"</p>
<p>Steve's eyes are closed but he smiles. "Not much. The stuff at the back."</p>
<p>Bucky dutifully flips to the back, finding page after page of illuminated Elvish poems; flowers, trees, and vines reaching up to brush against or tangle around the beautifully rendered calligraphy. While most of the portraits and landscapes are in pencil, these are ink and watercolor, obviously more finished work. Bucky recognizes some of the titles, even though they're written in Tengwar, Tolkien's invented alphabet; they're famous enough for <i>Rings</i> nerds to know.</p>
<p>"This is beautiful." His fingers brush the page, nervous to touch it, but needing to trace the curves Steve has marked in black and purple. "This must have taken a long time."</p>
<p>Steve makes a noncommittal noise that Bucky takes to mean <i>yes</i>, but when he looks at Steve, Steve's lying on his back, eyes closed, hands rising and falling where they're linked over his chest. So much for that burst of adrenaline.</p>
<p>Bucky reaches back to turn off the lamp nearest him. There's another by the opposite armchair that still casts enough light for Bucky to keep looking through Steve's sketches. The poems at the very back aren't illuminated, and are in pencil again, with eraser marks obscuring some of the glyphs. It must be work in progress, but Bucky doesn't recognize the titles, assuming the first line is a title.</p>
<p>He flicks his eyes up to Steve, confirming he's asleep, before pulling out his phone and going to the Elvish dictionary. He's never translated from Tengwar—most of his Elvish has been obtained through Elvish 101 workshops at conventions, so he's not sure how quickly this will go—but he's curious enough to find out what poem it is.</p>
<p>He's ten minutes into his search when he realizes he's been using both hands, the pain in his left arm finally receded. He should probably go to bed, but he's into this now, studying Steve's fluid lines and searching for a website that actually lists the Tengwar alphabet in a useful way. He falls asleep in the chair, Steve's sketchbook still in his lap.</p>
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</div>His alarm—currently the <i>Game of Thrones</i> theme song—startles him awake, one foot slipping off the coffee table and painfully impacting the thin rug. He smacks the phone where it rests against his bare chest, miraculously silencing it before Steve wakes, too.<p>He shouldn't have worried about it, though, because Steve's face is smashed against his pillow, mouth hanging open, looking for all the world like he's not going to regain consciousness for another few hours. Steve's shirt sleeve is rolled up from where he's jammed his arm under the pillow, biceps fully visible and delicious. Light spills from the edges of the shade, igniting dust motes in a halo around Steve. The covers pull tight from his nighttime maneuvering, outlining his legs and well-defined ass. </p>
<p>Bucky tilts his head to enjoy the view and is immediately punished for being a creeper when his neck screams in pain. Sleeping in the armchair was not his best choice. He stretches, trying to regain some flexibility and not drop Steve's sketchbook, which is still open in his lap. Thank God he didn't drool on it.</p>
<p>He gets up carefully—tailbone weighing in on the protests and back popping when he moves too quickly—and carries Steve's sketchbook with his phone balanced on top to the breakfast bar. He leaves them there and jumps in the shower while he waits for the coffee to brew.</p>
<p>Last night he didn't have much luck translating any of Steve's mystery poems. He keeps on it over breakfast, finally identifying one word in the first line: <i>míra</i>. Which Bucky dutifully looks up to discover it means "beautiful" or "lovely" in Quenya. Hmm.</p>
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</div>He lets that thought roll around his mind while he packs his bag, <i>The Handmaid's Tale</i> going in alongside his Stats book. He's not ready to give up the translation, but he can't exactly take Steve's sketchbook with him, so before he can talk himself out of it, he snaps a picture of each page. He even photographs the finished poems, enchanted by the sweep and curl in each letter.<p>He leaves the sketchbook on top of the stack nearest Steve. As usual, Steve's still asleep when he heads out the door.</p>
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</div>A few days later, Bucky's finally at Becca's apartment, a coffee in each hand, laundry thrown in his backpack. He smiles winningly at her through the peephole, even though she already knows it's him since she buzzed him in.<p>"The coffee's, like, a month late. Hope it's not cold." He shoves the to-go cup at her as soon as she opens the door. Her frazzled brunette curls and yummy sushi pajamas are clear signs she hasn't started her first cup yet.</p>
<p>Her apartment looks like a stock photo, neutral-toned furniture arranged at cockeyed angles with sci-fi books and robotics magazines stacked attractively alongside collections of candles and tchotchkes, all glowing with natural light. A bright blue lap throw (crocheted by one Grandma Barnes) is the only item out of place, bunched and hanging off the end of the couch.</p>
<p>"<i>Coffee</i>." She sighs and nuzzles the drink sleeve, dragging her nose along the cardboard edge. "I take back the uncharitable thought I had about you showing up unannounced on a Saturday before nine a.m."</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah, about that." Bucky upends his backpack on her couch, spilling forth a couple weeks' worth of shirts, socks, and— </p>
<p>"Your dirty underwear is on my new couch!" The volume is perhaps a little much for nine a.m., and Bucky is now understanding the wisdom in postponing future visits until after lunch.</p>
<p>"Okay. True. But it wouldn't be on your couch if it was in your washer." He tries for a beatific smile, but figures he winds up somewhere between manic and idiotic judging from the way she clucks her tongue.</p>
<p>Disapproval aside, she opens the folding doors that hide the washer/dryer combo unit off the kitchen. "Next time bring your own detergent."</p>
<p>"Thank you, sister." Bucky grabs an armful of clothes and kisses her cheek as he walks past. She leans into the kiss, perched on the barstool, hands still cupped around her drink. He got the biggest one the cafe served, but he's certain she'll polish it off in ten minutes.</p>
<p>She observes as he puts in the first load, anticipating his confusion at the dials and barking, "Nope, other way," before he even has a chance to ask. Once the lid is closed on the whooshing water, she takes a light step off the stool.</p>
<p>"I need to put on my face. Or at least put on real clothes. Since <i>someone</i> decided to come over before I showered." She flicks him off as she disappears into her bedroom, coffee still clutched in her hand. "Feel free to disrupt my Netflix algorithm."</p>
<p>"Don't worry, I can entertain myself." </p>
<p>He kicks off his boots and sprawls on her (new) couch, tucking his socked feet under Grandma Barnes's blanket and shoving a decorative pillow in the shape of a robot emoji behind his head. He <i>should</i> review his Anatomy notes, but instead he pulls up the pictures of Steve's poems. He hasn't made much progress in the past couple days, working more or less word by word, letter by letter. </p>
<p>He keeps getting lost in Steve's delicate lines, letting his eyes trace over the curves. Eraser marks smudge the page, adding to the difficulty of the translation, but he's enjoying the challenge, especially as a distraction from his studies or from being invited to a classmate's twenty-first birthday party. He did not need the reminder of how long ago twenty-one was for him (and how very young his classmates are by comparison). Bucky had a beer with Steve in her honor, back at the Tolkien bar. Thankfully that was not her party's destination.</p>
<p>Bucky flips from the Tengwar alphabet back to Steve's poem, confirming the last letter. </p>
<p>"<i>Anarórë</i>," Bucky whispers to the phone, letting the word drip over his tongue. His translation might be a little rough, but with the final word, Bucky thinks the meaning is <i>more beautiful than sunrise</i>. (The literal translation is <i>beautiful beyond the sunrise</i>, but that's how Elvish expresses comparative statements.) He smiles softly, thinking of the possible things that could mean.</p>
<p>"'Honorary'?" Becca's voice startles him, and she's leaning into his space before he can hide the screen. "Oh shit, are we back on <i>Lord of the Rings</i> again?"</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to deny it, but figures there's little point in hiding from Becca. "Sort of. It's Steve's thesis."</p>
<p>She takes the armchair across from the couch, sitting cross-legged on the seat. She's swapped the to-go cup for an oversized mug with a caffeine molecule on it. "He's writing his thesis in Elvish? When did you propose?"</p>
<p>Bucky whips the pillow from behind his head, the deflection narrowly missing her coffee cup. "He's in linguistics. Thesis is about the language. He's like, translating or some shit." He hopes the flush on his cheeks isn't as noticeable as it feels.</p>
<p>"And you're helping with that?"</p>
<p>"Uh."</p>
<p>Somehow his younger sister delivers disapproval in a single look better than their parents ever have. In the culmination of the angle of the head tilt, narrowing of the eyes, slight arch in her brow, and a tug at her mouth, Bucky's spilling the story of how he came by the pictures of Steve's mystery poems.</p>
<p>"Are you sure it's okay you took pictures?"</p>
<p>Bucky shrugs, flipping his phone casually in his hand. "He let me look through the sketchbook. And his shit's all over the living room, I doubt he'd mind." Bucky snorts. "He'd probably explode if he knew I was translating them."</p>
<p>Becca arches an eyebrow, disapproval eking into her expression, but Bucky heads it off with a shaken fist to clarify what kind of explosion he meant. Becca's expression twists from disapproval to disgusted. Perfect.</p>
<p>"I'm just curious," he explains. "Because I knew what the other poems were but didn't recognize these." The washer clicks off, and Bucky goes to swap the load to the dryer. "They're probably from some ancillary material I never read."</p>
<p>"There's ancillary <i>Rings</i> material you haven't read?" </p>
<p>"I mean, it's possible."</p>
<p>She's taking her hair out of a ponytail and twisting it up in a bun when he gets back, the stretched-out arms of her slouchy pineapple-print sweatshirt bunched around her elbows. "You know, if you're curious, you could just <i>ask</i> Steve about the poems."</p>
<p>Asking isn't the same as discovery. And maybe that's part of it. Bucky can't deny he was happiest elbows deep in <i>Lords of the Rings</i>, learning Elvish and the entire history of Middle Earth.</p>
<p>He flops on the couch, smirking when he sees her bite back a complaint about the couch abuse. "I could ask, but where's the fun in that?" He tries his most rakish grin on her, but being his sister and therefore incurring life-long exposure to Bucky's manipulative charm, it rolls off her entirely.</p>
<p>"Don't cry to me when this blows up in your face."</p>
<p>"Don't you mean when it explodes in my face?" He does the hand gesture again, and this time Becca throws the pillow back at him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics, and <i>míra</i> Tengwar lettering by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- One of the many things I learned while writing this fic is how to compose an adjectival comparison in Elvish. Many thanks to <a href="https://www.councilofelrond.com/reading/05-present-tense/">The Council of Elrond</a> for having such useful and simple lessons on Quenya grammar.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Well, Fond Is Not the Right Word</h2></a>
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WELL, FOND IS NOT THE RIGHT WORD<br/>
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</div>Bucky's toweling off his hair, stretched-out sweatpants slung low on his hips, when Steve nearly falls over the coffee table.<p>"Put on clothes." Steve's voice is a low mutter as he re-stacks a pile of books, but then he stumbles over himself again, coughing. "So we can go out, I mean. I can't stand to be inside anymore. I've been inside all weekend."</p><p>Bucky looks down at his worn sweats and shirtless-ness, clearly dressed for an evening at home. "I was kind of looking forward to staying in." Staying in and working on his homework because Bucky Barnes is the most exciting bachelor-slash-college student ever. </p><p>"Bucky," Steve practically whines. He folds his hands and presses them against his lips before releasing them with a dramatic sigh. "It's going to swallow me like the Old Forest swallowed Merry and Pippin."</p><p>The number of <i>Lord of the Rings</i> references that spill from Steve's perfect lips should be less attractive, but Bucky can't help but admire the obscurity, diversity, and precision. "Your thesis?" he asks for clarification. "Or the library that's been growing on your bed?"</p><p>Steve's mouth slants in a stubborn line. "Put on a shirt and buy me a beer."</p><p>Bucky laughs, but obediently goes to his dresser to grab a shirt and jeans. "Considering I'm the one getting dragged out, I think you should buy <i>me</i> a beer."</p><p>"Whatever, whatever, just get me out of here." Steve leans against Bucky's doorframe, a sentry ensuring Bucky doesn't fold into his desk chair as he'd been planning. His Anatomy notes are sitting out and ignored—tomorrow he's got no more excuses, he has a quiz at the end of the week. Or maybe if he can't sleep tonight, he should study instead of checking the Elvish message board to see if anyone has responded to his late-night frustrated posting.</p><p>Thirty-plus hours and dozens of web searches later, and he's come up empty on the single line he translated from Steve's mystery poems—<i>more beautiful than sunrise</i>. He's also tried the literal translation—<i>beautiful beyond the sunrise</i>—in case that produced different results. Nada. He went back to the Tengwar, tried a few variations to account for erased lines he might have misread, but those translations made even less sense, if they resulted in Elvish words at all. Ignoring Becca's voice ringing in the back of his thoughts to just <i>ask Steve</i>, he navigated to the message board with the most recent active posts, cropped the image of Steve's poem to the single line of text, and asked as sweetly as he could if anyone recognized it.</p><p>Now he waits for the nerds nerdier than him to identify the line. He's a little miffed he couldn't work it out on his own, but even Aragorn looked into the Palantir.</p><p>He tosses the towel on the bed, shrugs on a white Henley, and then pauses to thread his wet hair into a bun. He glances over to Steve, arching a brow, and tugs at his sweats. "I'm not going out in these."</p><p>"Oh? Oh!" The blush that floods Steve's face is sweet, sweeter than Bucky's dumb heart can resist, but thankfully Steve turns on his heel and marches back into the living room. "I'll be out here." Steve's voice cracks. Something in Bucky's chest cracks as well, and as he changes into his black jeans, he has to remind himself that he doesn't have time for the drama that would come from kissing his roommate.</p><p>Steve is hot, and Bucky likes flirting with him, but that is where this ridiculous crush ends.</p>
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</div>Over the last month, Bucky's been to the Tolkien bar four times with Steve, and coaxed out for pizza, Chinese, Thai, burgers, and the best matzo ball soup he's ever had. All delicious, wonderful times spent in Steve's company, all burning through Bucky's meager budget. When rent's due, Bucky's nearly short. He rubs the back of his neck when he sheepishly asks if Steve would mind if they stay in tonight.<p>"I can cook," he offers.</p><p>"You cook?" The rapid blinking is cute enough to forgive Steve's utter disbelief that Bucky's capable in a kitchen.</p><p>"I cook. Keep working. I'll handle it." He tucks his hands into his back pockets and takes a step backward toward the kitchen, grinning when Steve's eyes follow him. He's first to tear himself away, but when he glances back, Steve's still watching. He tries to ignore the pleasant twist at that knowledge.</p><p>The pantry supply is low, but he can get creative by mixing canned goods with a few fresh ingredients—and pasta's always a winner with Steve.</p><p>He gets things started and settles in to wait for the stove to heat, pulling up his phone to check messages. The message board query on Steve's poem was as useful as the Steward of Gondor. Everyone has an opinion (especially about his translation, which one jackass calls "simplistic"), but none of those opinions agree. Someone suggests that it doesn't sound like Tolkien's phrasing, and Bucky has been kicking around that thought for three days.</p><p>He glances at Steve, bent over his books, hair falling in front of his sculpted face, nimble fingers gripping the narrow pencil. His hand—large, strong, and somehow delicate—skates across the page in quick flicks. He's taking notes, Bucky's sure, more so when he consults the book open next to him, hand lifting from the page, finger stretching along the wooden shaft. He touches the point of his pencil to his lip. Tap, tap. Tap.</p><p>Bucky takes a shaky breath and tries his best to <i>stop</i> thinking about Steve's hands and lips. (And what he might <i>do</i> with those hands and lips. Yeesh.)</p><p>He's cooked for other roommates before, to varying degrees of success. He doesn't claim to be a great chef—most of his experience is in adjusting the Barnes family cookbook to be suitable for an athletic training regimen—but he's going to be disappointed if Steve's not at least a little charmed by his cooking. </p><p>He flicks between the poem photos (a less distracting activity than staring at Steve), absently stirring with his right hand. His thumb slides over the curves of the letters, eyes tracing gentle sweeps. The words mean—he <i>thinks</i>—<i>light soaked</i>, or maybe <i>drenched</i>, and Bucky immediately thinks of Steve's smile and the way his joy washes over Bucky's heart, catching in his lungs and leaving him short of breath.</p><p>Steve leans over Bucky's right shoulder and announces, "Damn, that smells good."</p><p>Bucky's phone does not end up as a surprise ingredient in their pasta, but it's a narrow thing.</p><p>"Yeah?" His voice doesn't shake at all as he tucks his phone away. It's the one time he's been grateful for Steve's cluelessness. "Better than lembas?"</p><p>Steve laughs, his body so close that his jacket brushes Bucky's side as he reaches for the plates. He turns toward the living room, and then turns back around, mouth half open. "We don't have a table."</p><p>Bucky doubles over laughing, a stray thought about a four-letter l-word skirting the back of his mind. "We've never had a table. Why's that bothering you now?"</p><p>"Because homemade food should be eaten at a table." The conviction in his voice should be reserved for saving lives, but Bucky appreciates that Steve's already thinking of this meal as something special.</p><p>"If you want something different, we've got a breakfast bar, pal."</p><p>Steve looks pained for a moment, and then chooses the coffee table, leaving the plates behind to stack books and clear the half closest to the two armchairs. Which is sort of different, if Steve doesn't wind up cross-legged on his bed again. "You eat at the breakfast bar a lot?"</p><p>The absent-minded-professor schtick works for Steve, and damn if it doesn't work for Bucky, too. "When I'm eating alone." He concentrates on filling their plates with pasta and sauce so he doesn't have to think too hard about how stupid his heart is. "Or sometimes in my bedroom, if you're sleeping."</p><p>"Oh. You don't have to."</p><p>Bucky pulls a face and thrusts the plate at Steve to provide some distance while his heart beats like the drums of Khazad-dûm. "Yeah, but it's weird if I'm like, sitting across from you with breakfast while you're face-planted in your pillow."</p><p>Steve shrugs. "I'm the one who turned the common space into my bedroom."</p><p>"Water?" Bucky asks, instead of following the comment. They've covered that terrain before, and while some things about the arrangement have been awkward, without Steve's misleading ad for his apartment, Bucky wouldn't have met Steve.</p><p>They get everything to the living room and tuck in, Bucky with his feet pressed against the lip of the table, his plate balanced between his thighs and stomach, and Steve holding the plate to his face while he slurps contentedly. Witnessing that eager consumption, Bucky figures he knocked it out of the park.</p><p>Before he can feel too settled in the feeling of success, Bucky's left arm seizes. He winces, and his plate slides to the side, but he's used to this shit, so he steadies himself, hissing a tight breath through his teeth.</p><p>"Buck?"</p><p>"I'm fine." The words are automatic; he'd have said them even if he'd been curled on the ground and crying. "Give me a minute." He makes a fist, squeezing every muscle as tight as he can and then focusing on releasing each one. He can get control of this; it's just his body sending the wrong signals at the wrong time and making him look stupid in front of Steve.</p><p>Steve doesn't resume eating. Bucky can feel eyes on him, the worry pouring off Steve in waves, and for a wild second he realizes Steve cares.</p><p>He takes one more shaky breath, muscles finally unclenched. The pain in his arm is still there but reduced to white noise that can be ignored. "I'm good," he says, spinning pasta on his fork to prove it.</p><p>Steve waits until Bucky's had a second bite before he also starts eating again.</p><p>He doesn't ask Bucky about it. Bucky doesn't explain. But Steve asks about Bucky's classes, how the semester is going, and if Bucky's going home for Thanksgiving, even though it's still almost two months away.</p><p>"After this, I thought maybe you'd make dinner, if you're not going home to family."</p><p>Steve's shy, sheepish smile is enough to make Bucky consider changing his plans.</p>
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</div>That night he can't sleep, kept up in equal parts by the tingling in his arm and thinking about Steve's smile. He's going to need a good excuse to explain why he can't come home for Thanksgiving, especially since Becca offered to drive and it's his family's favorite holiday. Steve's mom is a nurse and takes most holiday shifts, which is why he's not headed home. Maybe he can bring Steve with him. Roommates can drag each other to suburban family holidays, right?<p>Bucky finally passes out for a few hours and rises from the depths of the dead thinking he woke up before his alarm, and then bolts upright when he sees the time. The suggestion of a shower clings to his skin while he pulls on clothes, hair ends dripping down his neck where they're gathered in an elastic band. He skips breakfast and grabs one of Steve's protein bars, making note of the brand and flavor so he can replace it.</p><p>Ten minutes late to Anatomy, but an open seat at the back saves him some embarrassment. The professor quirks an eyebrow at him, but lets his tardiness go without comment. Good fucking morning.</p><p>After class, a grueling one that's left his hands sore from note taking, his messages alert him to a fifteen-dollar overdraft fee on his bank account. Perfect. Exactly what he needs at the start of the damn month. Feeling like the Sackville-Bagginses, he considers texting his mom, but then just moves money from his November funds. He's not entirely screwed, not yet, but he's coming close to fucking over his carefully laid plans to skip a shitty part-time job, juggle a heavier course load, and get out in two years.</p><p>All for Steve's damn smile.</p><p>Good thing it's a <i>really</i> good smile.</p><p>The awkward gap between his classes usually means lunch at the Student Union and a protracted study session, but he can get home and back to campus in the same amount of time. Better to save the few bucks he has and see if he can earn the deficit by helping someone move apartments or something.</p><p>He hears the rumble of Steve's voice through the door, and the shitty morning sloughs away. Apparently, Steve reads his thesis aloud when Bucky's not there, too. It's so charming Bucky grins.</p><p>The apology for interrupting is already on his lips when he hears a woman's laugh and stops cold in the open doorway.</p>
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</div>An attractive brunette in a crisp pencil skirt sits on the very edge of Steve's made bed surrounded by a condensed version of the usual chaos. Books and notebooks stack in petering towers, allowing a glimpse of the Formica tabletop, like Steve attempted to pick up for her visit. Steve's jacket sleeves bunch at his elbows, and when he sees Bucky, he pushes his glasses up to his forehead.<p>"Bucky! Hey! What time is it?" He looks around, missing the watch on his wrist, and Bucky would be content to find it endearing if he knew why Steve had a girl in their apartment.</p><p>"Early. I'm short on cash, so I came home for lunch."</p><p>"You must be the estimable Bucky Barnes." The woman stands, navigating Steve's detritus with practiced ease. Her hair falls around her shoulders in perfect waves. "It's nice to finally put a face with the name." The English accent is another surprise, as is her sharp red smile.</p><p>"Uh, yeah, hi." Bucky's polite enough to free up his right hand for a firm handshake. "You must be Steve's… friend."</p><p>Steve, for his part, is pink around the ears, as if only now realizing that in the last month he's told Bucky every detail about elves but skipped over the fact that he knows any other breathing, flesh-and-blood humans.</p><p>"Peggy," Steve cuts in. "Military history. I went to her for research on Tolkien's war years."</p><p>Bucky's suspicions ease a notch. "Another grad student?"</p><p>"Post. Steve and I almost completely missed each other." The look over her shoulder, which Bucky catches in profile, is assessing and not innocent. "We were lucky our paths crossed."</p><p>"I was lucky." Steve levers himself up and knocks over a pile of books. "I mean, because of the research help."</p><p>"Of course," Bucky and Peggy say in unison, which does nothing to tame his jealousy.</p><p>Bucky slides his backpack off his shoulders and crosses his arms over the superhero t-shirt he'd grabbed in his rush this morning. He's grown used to shaving years off his age but having Peggy in front of him looking like she belongs with Steve is making him a hair self-conscious about his wardrobe. And about the fact that he'd planned to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which now sounds like the least sophisticated thing he could eat for lunch.</p><p>"Sorry to interrupt." He rocks backward on his heels, retreating into the kitchen, and presses down his smile when Steve rushes to reassure that Bucky hadn't interrupted anything.</p><p>"I was catching Peggy up on my progress. She was a reader for the earlier drafts." He holds a hand out to Bucky. "Bucky's sort of a reader now, in that I read new material to him while he works out." The shy smile on Steve's face means Bucky will forgive him anything, even if he has a girlfriend he's never mentioned.</p><p>Fuck his dumb, wonderful smile.</p><p>"Yeah, it's interesting," Bucky says, burying his head in the refrigerator so no one sees him blush.</p><p>Peggy picks up the thread, and she and Steve get back to discussing his thesis without input from Bucky. He finishes making his sandwich and eats it in the kitchen, just trying to not draw attention to himself. Peggy laughs, putting her hand on Steve's arm, and Steve's uncertain chuckle stutters between his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes flicking from the notebook in his hand to Peggy and then to Bucky.</p><p>Bucky shrugs and says with his mouth partially full, "It's all Elvish to me."</p><p>This time Steve's whole face crinkles with his laugh, and when Peggy pats his knee a moment later, Bucky feels breathless at the thought that he's never touched Steve with that kind of casual familiarity.</p><p>"I should be going. Even long lunches have to end." Peggy pulls a purse over her shoulder as she stands, and Steve makes the requisite disappointed groans. She takes a step toward the breakfast bar, and says in a softer voice, "You said you were short on cash?" Her eyes on him, Bucky feels every crumb clinging to his lips and littering the front of his shirt.</p><p>He nods and snags a paper towel to wipe his mouth.</p><p>"Check the science building. Always a grad student in need of a test subject. Some of them pay pretty well." She arches an eyebrow at Bucky in an expression that almost seems kind, and then looks back to Steve. "Walk me down?"</p><p>Steve scrambles, moving awkwardly around his piles of research, while Peggy smoothly glides between the stacks, not brushing a single page out of place. "It was nice meeting you," she calls over her shoulder.</p><p>"Back in a minute." Steve shuts the door firmly behind them, and Bucky sags, arms spread to either side of the kitchen sink. He cannot handle having an enormous crush on Steve while Steve's dating someone else. He cannot handle that someone else being beautiful, articulate, and kind to Steve's idiot roommate.</p><p>Twenty minutes pass before Steve's back upstairs. Not that Bucky was timing them, except he really needs to get to class and he didn't want to pass them saying goodbye with their mouths possibly attached to each other. At least there's no visible lipstick on Steve's face.</p>
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</div>Steve's engrossed in his thesis when Bucky gets home, and Bucky's so embarrassed by the whole day, he barely says hi before shoving in earphones and starting his usual workout. He's about halfway through his Khazad-dûmbells playlist when Steve's waving finally catches his eye. He jerks his chin at Steve, finishes his rep and lets the earphones dangle from his t-shirt collar.<p>"Let me read you this part." Steve reads excitedly from some book, his voice soothing over Bucky's wounded ego. He reads with the same giddy enthusiasm he directed at Peggy, which makes Bucky feel a little less special, until he realizes Steve didn't talk to Peggy about his family or other bits of his life—or ask about hers. Their entire conversation had been rooted in Tolkien and Steve's obsession.</p><p>Twenty minutes was a short rant from Steve, really, so he'd probably been talking the entire time Bucky was waiting upstairs—talking and not making out with an attractive, successful girlfriend who Bucky would probably also pick over himself.</p><p>Bucky fights away his frown. If they weren't making out today, they probably will soon. Or have.</p><p>Steve looks up at Bucky, an expectant grin on his face, but Bucky can't muster his usual chipper encouragement to keep Steve's mouth moving.</p><p>"Sorry." Bucky shakes his head and sets down the dumbbell. "I kind of wasn't listening."</p><p>Steve's frown wrinkles his brow, lips pursing. It's uncharacteristic, Bucky knows, and he's about to tell Steve to read the passage again when Steve speaks. "Peggy's not wrong about the science building. I've volunteered to be a lab rat a few times. The money's not always great, but it can be a quick buck that fits in with a heavy course load."</p><p>Bucky blinks rapidly and is glad his feet are planted or else he might stagger back from the shock of Steve talking to him about Bucky's twenty-first century, non-academic, non-Elvish problems.</p><p>"I—" It takes him a second to untangle his embarrassment about finances from his embarrassment about his crush. "What, uh, what have you signed up for?"</p><p>Steve shrugs, finally lowering the book. "Some health and fitness stuff. Had asthma as a kid." He laughs, probably at the surprise on Bucky's face. "Grew out of it," he clarifies, "But they were still interested in checking out my lungs."</p><p>Bucky makes a fist of his left hand, thinking about his unique experiences and wondering if anyone has a call for an ex-diver who busted his arm and ruined his life.</p><p>"Did a psychological one. About art and dreaming." Steve shakes his head. "I'll have to see if I still have the sketches from that. Wild stuff."</p><p>"Not Middle Earth landscapes, I take it."</p><p>Steve laughs, his cheeks tinting a delightfully embarrassed pink. "Maybe some of them."</p><p>Bucky puts the rest of his equipment away, feeling like enough of his bad mood has finally burned off. "You ever draw anything that isn't related to Tolkien?"</p><p>"I used to." Steve's sigh is heavy enough that Bucky feels it. "This thesis is kind of like the fingers of Saruman reaching out from Isengard." The image is more sinister than he would have expected from Steve when talking about the love of his life. But before he can comment on it, Steve's jerking his chin at Bucky. "Hey, you want me to take you to where they post the studies? You can probably find it on your own, but I could use a walk." </p><p>"Thanks," Bucky says by way of agreement.</p><p>As they walk to campus, sun inching toward the horizon and wind rolling leaves along the sidewalk, Bucky buries his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, clenching his fists in the worn lining. Steve keeps a steady stream of conversation, continuing to talk about studies he participated in, what to expect from them, and how much they paid (if he can remember).</p><p>"The last one I did was all about building muscle." Steve flexes, the arms of his tweed jacket straining. "Didn't get like this from lifting books."</p><p>Bucky snorts. "I don't buy it. I've seen your books."</p><p>Steve's guffaw is loud enough to startle the couple walking in front of them.</p><p>They wind their way across campus and into the science building, Steve leading. Once inside the cramped hallways, Steve's dialogue abruptly cuts off, respectful of the classes and office hours still in session. Bucky's gut twists as he follows Steve's broad shoulders. He hates needing help, hates the idea that he got himself into this mess by ignoring his head, hates that Steve knows Bucky fucked up. Okay, maybe that last one is the thing bothering him the most.</p><p>Steve stops in front of a giant corkboard and gestures to the wall of posted notices. Physical, psychological, sociological, anything and everything that needs testing, or experiential or anecdotal support all listed in one place.</p><p>"They've got a website, but it takes forever for the admin to update, so hard copy's still the best way to find a study before it's full." Steve rocks on his heels. "Can I help you find something?"</p><p>Bucky nods, staring up at the pages littering the wall. How can he possibly know who might want him?</p><p>He starts on one end, Steve on the other. He's hesitant to touch them before he realizes the notices are layered, some posted a week ago buried by ones posted this morning. At least there's a variety.</p><p>"Hey, would you call yourself a strong swimmer?"</p><p>Bucky shrugs, it's been a long time since he's been in the water. Chlorine still smells an awful lot like failure. "I mean, I'm not going to drown."</p><p>Steve plucks a tear-off tag from the flier and pushes it into Bucky's hand. "That's a maybe."</p><p>All told, Bucky walks away with eleven torn tags listing a website or email. Some of them sound sort of interesting, like one about pop culture and how it correlates to intelligence.</p><p>"Almost all the tags are gone for that one," Steve observes. "The fun ones fill up fast, but they don't always pay the best."</p><p>"Pff, like I need a study to tell me pop culture nerds are smart."</p><p>Steve ducks his head, cheeks turning pink. "You saying it takes some smarts to learn Elvish?"</p><p>Bucky bites his lip, not just because Steve's blush is the cutest, but because he doesn't want to fess up what exactly he knows about the difficulty of learning Elvish. He likes that Steve thinks he's a noob because he likes hearing Steve explain <i>Lord of the Rings</i>. He doesn't feel pressured to remember tiny details he read once in the Appendices, and Steve is utterly delighted when Bucky repeats some fact Steve mentioned a week ago but Bucky has known for years. Maybe it's not exactly <i>truthful</i>, but he's not fessing up about his crush either.</p><p>"I mean, it takes some smarts to learn a foreign language, doesn't it?"</p><p>Normally that kind of question would send Steve on a tear, discussing the correlation between Elvish and dead languages and how current users impact meaning, but instead he reaches ahead of Bucky to hold open the door. As Bucky slips past, he imagines a world in which Steve's arm slides around him and they walk home like that, Bucky tucked against Steve's side.</p><p>It's dark when they step into the quad, and Steve's silence hangs tension between them. His jaw clenches in the lamplight and when his eyes flit to Bucky, he swallows. Shit.</p><p>Now or later, he figures, so he says, "Out with it."</p><p>Steve visibly startles, his elbow bumping against Bucky's. "What?" The faux-innocence is short lived. Steve twists his lips to the side. "Sorry. Just. I noticed you skipped a lot of the postings about, uh, pain."</p><p>Bucky clutches the tear-offs in his left pocket.</p><p>Steve doesn't elaborate.</p><p>He wants to know, that much is clear, but the fact that he doesn't push, that he seems willing to let the subject drop, is why a silent block later Bucky finally speaks.</p><p>"I fell. From kind of high. Pretty much shattered my arm. I've got more metal than bone now." Steve's quiet attention acts as verbal lubricant, letting Bucky's secrets spill between them. It's not everything, but it's enough. Since his recovery, he hasn't explained what happened to anyone, hiding the pain, working out to keep his muscles tame. Never, ever mentioning the life he might have had if he hadn't been so stupid on that bridge. He'd had a lot of rage the first couple years, a lot of blame to toss around at anyone except himself. A therapist helped, then he decided he'd rather bury the rest, be who he is, not mourn who he'd been.</p><p>Except he kind of wants Steve to know everything. He feels like Steve <i>should</i> know everything. Even if he's not ready to tell him everything.</p><p>He chuckles dryly. "I set off metal detectors now."</p><p>Steve grins, but doesn't laugh. "Not the greatest superpower."</p><p>"Nah, not really."</p><p>"You're okay now, right?"</p><p>"Yeah." Bucky hedges, feeling the edges of Steve's acceptance, and then admits, "Sometimes I still have pain, which obviously you've seen. But it's okay."</p><p>"Okay," Steve says, and he elbows Bucky deliberately this time. "You know, you're actually kind of like Frodo." And then Steve tells Bucky about Frodo getting stabbed by the Witch King of Angmar at Weathertop. He knows about it, of course, about the pain chasing Frodo into old age, but he likes Steve's interpretation, the way he looks at Bucky, light drenched smile making Bucky forget any pain.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p><p>- Illustration by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a></p><p>- If you are concerned Bucky is going to have to deal with a love triangle, let me reassure you that there is only ONE PAIRING tagged for this fic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h3>
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DON'T GO WHERE I CAN'T FOLLOW<br/>
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</h3>
</div>Used to be when he got somewhere early, he'd pull out the Jemisin he was halfway through, or reread his favorite Le Guin, but now as Bucky squats in the hallway, he hauls out his phone to study the pictures of Steve's poems.<p>He printed the pages so he could keep track of the translations and trace over any smudged lines, but he still doesn't know the source or what the poems mean. Half the time he flips open the folder on his desk to just stare at the Tengwar, not even bothering to translate it. He just admires the elegance of Steve's lines, imagining what the words would sound like in Steve's voice. (Even, God help him, in Steve's poorly pronounced Elvish.)</p>
<p>Six lines down, the word <i>hunger</i> stares Bucky in the face, and he feels exactly what it means. It's more than the fact that Steve looks like a hot professor with his glasses pinning back his hair and a pencil pinched between his teeth. It's that Steve helped him sort through the study listings, didn't push about Bucky's arm, laughs with his whole body, and stutters about hobbits every time he's caught half-way off guard. It's everything about Steve fucking Rogers and it's starting to drive Bucky a little insane.</p>
<p>"Barnes?"</p>
<p>Bucky pushes up from his crouch next to the vending machine and gives a three-fingered wave while holding tight to his phone. Natasha, the psych student he's been emailing the past few days to set up a preliminary meeting, has a firm, brief handshake and a thin smile somewhere between reassuring and grim; Bucky immediately likes her. </p>
<p>He follows her curtain of red hair into the rabbit warren, back to a shared office. Mismatched chairs sit side by side, but she leans against the desk instead of taking a seat.</p>
<p>He tries not to show his nerves, but his leg bounces as the doctoral student tells him about her research project: a sleep study for people who suffered traumatic injuries. Bucky's a prime candidate.</p>
<p>"If you complete the course, it's three hundred bucks, which I know isn't much. Don't even get me started about my funding." Her voice sounds a little like she's been the one missing sleep.</p>
<p>"Hey, it's three hundred bucks I don't have." Bucky's grin is tight. Three hundred will cover him if he can resist going out with Steve so often. Though, he was really hoping he'd have some money coming in before the semester ends. "Any chance I get paid upfront?"</p>
<p>Natasha laughs mirthlessly, making Bucky feel like he delved too greedily and too deep. "No such luck, but you'll get a hundred at the end of October, one-fifty for November, and a sweet fifty if you make it through the last weekend."</p>
<p>Money coming in throughout the semester? At least that will protect him if he <i>can't</i> resist Steve. "Let's go for it."</p>
<p>She reaches behind her, relief evident in every move, and hands over a clipboard with some paperwork. "How do you feel about sleeping here every other weekend?"</p>
<p>Bucky does some quick math. That's five weekends, if she's including the weekend of finals. Five weekends out of the apartment and away from his own growing hunger. He unlocks his phone, swiping away from the poems and opening his calendar. "I feel great about it. When do we start?"</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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  </p>
</div>The start turns out to be immediate. Natasha sends Bucky home with a questionnaire about his injury and sleep difficulties, including how long it takes him to fall asleep and what kind of dreams he has. There's a mess of lifestyle questions too, about his drinking habits, medications he's currently taking, exercise routine, what surgeries he's had (that list is fucking long), and if he gets drowsy during the day. She also sends a link to a survey he's supposed to fill out every morning this week, leading up to the weekend when he'll get hooked to machines and sleep in Natasha's lab. He keeps the three hundred dollars in mind when he clicks through the survey the next morning, guessing how many hours he was actually asleep and judging the quality of his sleep on a one-to-ten scale. The survey of course has questions about the lingering effects of his injury and how that disrupts his sleep. He grits his teeth as he answers those questions, being as honest and cognizant as he can be about the tingling in his arm and the fear that his remaining bones are grinding against metal.<p>He hates it less than he expects, at least after the fourth night. Prepping for the study means he's <i>trying</i> to sleep, and he hasn't spent one night this week reading paperbacks across from Steve's bed. The study's already doing what he hoped it would, giving him something other than Steve to think about.</p>
<p>"Hey." Steve's soft voice curls around the doorframe and freezes Bucky in the middle of packing his overnight bag. "Oh, uh, am I interrupting?"</p>
<p>Bucky shoves his boxers deeper into the bag, and then covers them with his toiletry kit. "Um, no?" He tosses <i>The Silmarillion</i> on top and zips up his bag. "I'm just getting ready for tonight."</p>
<p>"Tonight?" The suspicion in Steve's voice draws a grin to Bucky's face.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm overnight. With Natasha." Something in Steve's expression shutters, and Bucky tries so hard to prevent that from settling like hope in his chest. Regardless of what Peggy is to Steve, Steve doesn't have time for something new—<i>Bucky</i> doesn't have time for a relationship—and he sure as shit has no chill when it comes to Steve Rogers.</p>
<p>Which is also why he can't stand misleading Steve for more than a few seconds.</p>
<p>"The sleep study," he reminds Steve. "Three hundred bucks?"</p>
<p>"Right!" The relief on Steve's face is palpable, and Bucky struggles with that hope-thing again.</p>
<p>"I need to sleep there tonight and tomorrow night, but I'm free to roam during the day." He catches the way Steve's smile twitches, and Bucky remembers he's trying to put some distance between them, to get a handle on his out-of-control crush. "I was thinking about just staying there, though. Natasha said it's quiet and I need to study." Which is true. Bucky knows the bones and muscles in the arm like a hobbit knows mealtimes, but he keeps confusing some of the others, and at the apartment he can't deny that he's preoccupied.</p>
<p>"You want company?"</p>
<p>Hope flies into Bucky's throat as a <i>yes</i> threatening to escape. But he swallows it down. "Nah. You've got your whole… system."</p>
<p>"Oh. Huh, yeah." At Steve's sheepish smile Bucky's resolve nearly crumbles like Osgiliath. "Maybe the quiet will be good for me."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm so distracting," Bucky teases.</p>
<p>Steve tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and shrugs. "You can be." Bucky's eyes meet Steve's again. Just yesterday he'd been working out and looked up to find Steve quietly watching him. Steve had turned pink and started babbling about how the Ring Poem translates across all the languages of Middle Earth. As far as Bucky knows, his thesis hasn't touched on the Ring poem.</p>
<p>Bucky's heartbeat kicks and he swallows again to try to control it. "How's your thesis coming?"</p>
<p>Steve lets out a heavy exhale and leans against the doorframe, hand raking through his dark blond hair, looking as burdened as the heir of Númenor. "Almost done. I think. I keep having to double check my citations. I didn't really keep track of everything properly when I was pulling it together. Lesson learned, right?" His eyes crinkle behind his glasses, and Bucky desperately wants to slide the glasses down Steve's nose so he can kiss the smile lines.</p>
<p>"Well, glad you're learning something." Bucky grabs his bag, deciding he needs to leave before he acts on any of his kissing impulses. His Anatomy book drags across the desk as he hoists everything and a folder slides with it.</p>
<p>"Oh shit," Steve says, moving to try to catch it at the same time Bucky realizes what the folder is.</p>
<p>The manila folder with the printed photos of Steve's poems drops to the floor, spine hitting and ejecting pages. The leaves fall, not idly at all, as exhausted with keeping Bucky's secret as he is.</p>
<p>"Oh. Shit," Steve repeats, but the panic is gone from his tone and replaced with a hush Bucky can't quite parse around his own mounting panic. "What are you doing with these?"</p>
<p>"Oh, fuck, um. Do you remember showing me your sketchbook?" His fingers nervously crimp the edges of his Anatomy book. "I, uh, took some snaps. Just, just curious." He laughs and it doesn't sound natural at all, but he can't reign in the awkward sounds coming out of his mouth.</p>
<p>Steve shuffles the pages—the poems, the Tengwar alphabet, and Bucky's half-assed translations—stacking them together, but he's obviously taking an assessment. Shit. Bucky's handwriting is all over the pages, scratchy pencil marks under Steve's beautiful Elvish calligraphy. Shit, shit, shit!</p>
<p>"I didn't know you were that interested in—" Steve stops on a page—<i>the</i> page—the short poem Bucky has been obsessing over for two weeks. The Elvish and English are carefully recorded under each line of Tengwar.</p><ul>
  <i>More beautiful than sunrise<br/>
Deep shadow settles in <s>crow</s> raven (?) hair<br/>
Flows gentle over <s>shaped stone</s> sculpted (?) shoulders<br/>
Who needs day when night possesses wonder?</i>
</ul>
<p>Steve's face turns bright red, and Bucky fights the urge to run from this unmitigated disaster. He's trying to figure out how to salvage this, what to say about the fact that he translated Elvish, that he took pictures of Steve's sketchbook without his permission, that he's been lying this whole time about how much he knows about Tolkien, but Steve looks up at Bucky and grins, his sheepish mug clueless and vaguely embarrassed. </p>
<p>"Not a bad translation." His voice is weirdly tight, but Bucky feels tense all over and like he needs to leave <i>immediately</i>.</p>
<p>His panic holds him for a second more and then he's leaning over, snapping the folder closed around Steve's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Yeah? Thanks. Fuck if I know what I'm doing. Hey, I should be going, don't want to be late. You want to take those? It's cool, no worries. Sorry if I overstepped. Gotta go. See you Sunday!" He keeps the commentary going as he pushes Steve out of his bedroom, closes his bedroom door, crosses the apartment, and leaves a bewildered looking Steve clutching the folder of poems Bucky fell in love with. </p>
<p>Through the closing door he hears Steve say, "Okay, good luck," and he hopes those aren't the last kind words Steve says to him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Surprisingly, the fiasco with Steve doesn't leave Bucky ready to settle into bed and drift off to happy, fluffy dreamland. Natasha's nice about it, or at least she chalks it up to anxiety about her watching him sleep.<p>"I know it's a little <i>Twilight</i>, but I swear: I'm a scientist." The dry smile she cracks would have put him at ease if Steve's tight voice and embarrassed, red cheeks weren't being projected in Bucky's mind at forty-eight frames per second. He gives her a feeble smile in return, holding still while she glues another electrode to his head.</p>
<p>Another day he might have put up a fuss about getting glue in his hair. Maybe he deserves this, though, a little humbling in the face of being a massive asshole regarding his roommate's privacy. At least the glue's room temperature, and the astringent smell's really helping open his sinuses. </p>
<p>A red wire snakes into his peripheral vision. "You promise this will wash out?" He doesn't need to spend the next two months looking like one of Becca's robotics projects. </p>
<p>"Don't be a baby."</p>
<p>He squints at her, but Natasha just rolls her eyes and gestures for him to lift his shirt. She holds up each instrument before touching him, explaining in her raspy voice how the heart and respiratory monitors work. Leads are taped to his skin, a cannula at his nose, and then the wires from his head are carefully braided and tucked into his shirt collar, everything meeting at the box belted around his chest. "If you think you'll pull these out, I will wrap you in gauze."</p>
<p>"That sounds like a threat."</p>
<p>She doesn't deny it, which makes it sound more like a threat.</p>
<p>"I'll be watching from a camera feed, not like, leaning over your bed." The camera's mounted at the ceiling, pointed directly at the double bed in the center of the room.</p>
<p>"Very reassuring."</p>
<p>"I also will not keep a tally of how many times you fart."</p>
<p>"What?!"</p>
<p>Her grin turns mischievous, and she checks her tablet. "Heart monitor's working."</p>
<p>Bucky stutters a laugh, pressing his hand to his chest, careful of the box bulging at his sternum. "What a way to check it."</p>
<p>She nudges his shoulder. "There you are. Just relax, James. I promise, the hardest thing about this is falling asleep the first night with all the wires. I know these readings are going to suck. Just try to get used to it and settle in."</p>
<p>Bucky takes a deep breath, focusing his mind on the sleep study and relaxing and sleeping and nothing else. "Sure thing, doc."</p>
<p>Natasha touches her nose. "Not a doctor yet." She winks at Bucky as she crosses the room, lab coat billowing in her wake. "You'll hear my voice from the speaker once I'm all set up. I'll wake you the same way in the morning. Good night, Mr. Barnes."</p>
<p>He waves as she shuts the door, but the definitive click signaling that he's finally alone shatters his tenuous focus, and he barely restrains himself from covering his face, aware of all the goddamn wires. Fuck, this was not the night to muck things up with Steve.</p>
<p>But maybe he hasn't mucked things up? Steve didn't seem angry that Bucky had taken pictures of the poems, just surprised, and what does it really matter if Bucky translated them? Who cares if Bucky knows Elvish?</p>
<p>Bucky drops his chin, the answer painfully obvious: Steve. Steve cares if Bucky knows Elvish.</p>
<p>He keeps his hands away from his face, but flops back across the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut.</p>
<p>The worst part is that he's fairly certain he knows why he and the other Elvish enthusiasts he's messaged haven't been able to find any similar lines from Steve's mystery poems anywhere else. He hasn't wanted to think about this head on, but if he's listing Reasons Steve Might Be Pissed, top of the list has to be: Bucky read Steve's private love poetry.</p>
<p><i>Ugh</i>, he hates himself.</p>
<p>He rolls toward the end of the bed, intending to stand up, but the wires attaching him to the wall tug. <i>End of the line, Barnes.</i> Which means no dropping down to knock out fifty push-ups, no burning off his guilt with exercise, no moving farther than this fucking bed where he can sit and think about how he invaded Steve's privacy and embarrassed him and steamrolled any chance of Steve ever trusting him with anything more consequential than grocery shopping.</p>
<p>His arm spasms, pain radiating from the center, another reminder of the things he's irrevocably broken.</p>
<p>Bucky makes a fist, settling on his back, feet still grounded. He clutches his left arm to his chest, ignoring the bite and pull of muscles as he moves. He inhales a four count, holds it, and then exhales, pushing aside his fucking anxiety and centering himself on what's real, on facts. The air going in, holding, and out of his lungs. The clench of his fist. His nails biting into his palm. The plush microfiber blanket cushioning the backs of his arms. His back and shoulders supported by the mattress. The tingle at his scalp where the wires are connected.</p>
<p>The last thought brings an image of how ridiculous he looks and with it, Steve's smile, igniting in his mind and making Bucky soft around the edges. Steve's full body laugh blossoms in Bucky's memory so completely, he can hear an echo of it. The smile lines around his eyes hiding behind the frame of his glasses distracts Bucky enough that the pain in his arm fades. He slowly opens his eyes, flexing his hand and the muscles in his forearm. The tension's still there, but it's a buzzing under his skin, dull compared to the bright warm thoughts of Steve.</p>
<p>Okay, even if Steve isn't mad at him, Bucky has a serious problem: he is totally in love with his roommate.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Greer/">E_Greer</a> for fact checking everything related to the sleep study!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hope Is Born When All Is Forlorn</h2></a>
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HOPE IS BORN WHEN ALL IS FORLORN<br/>
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</h3>
</div>The night is fitful. Steve's potential anger and hurt chase Bucky's thoughts, and the red light from the camera glows like the Eye of Sauron. Bucky flips off the camera, assuming Natasha will think it's funny.<p>He drifts off a few times, awakened first by his arm tingling, and then by his memory of the pages lolling across the floor. It's Bucky's feelings on display as much as Steve's, even if Steve doesn't recognize it.</p>
<p>He tries a few times to read himself distracted and drowsy, but <i>The Silmarillion</i> is too close to the problem now, and he's having trouble concentrating on the Octavia Butler he found in his backpack. Maybe he'll run home and grab a reread from his stack next to the armchair. He covers his closed eyes with a hand, amending that errand to the university library. He can't face Steve yet.</p>
<p>In the morning, Natasha's voice rouses him, and she gently reminds him not to move too much.</p>
<p>"I'll be in to release you in a moment. You did great, James."</p>
<p>He blinks at the ceiling, feeling the exact opposite of that.</p>
<p>Natasha unhooks him, quietly going about her business, the lights in the room still dim. When she leaves, he washes up and changes in the connected bathroom. He's putting on his shoes, hair in a damp bun at his neck—and that glue did <i>not</i> entirely wash out—when Natasha knocks on the door. A paper bag and to-go coffee appear first.</p>
<p>"I come bearing gifts." Her voice is rougher than usual, but Bucky figures the study design is her fault, so he assumes she's worked out her sleep schedule, too.</p>
<p>"I thought the question about favorite breakfast foods was just an ice breaker." The cinnamon roll is awash in sticky icing and looks suspiciously like it's from a pastry shop he thought had closed down.</p>
<p>"I take my research very seriously."</p>
<p>He takes an experimental sip of coffee and it's fixed to his liking, so he sets it aside. "How'd Night One go?"</p>
<p>She takes a breath and folds her hands behind her back, tablet tucked under her arm. "You tell me."</p>
<p>He arches a brow at her, and she arches one back. Apparently, this is the survey portion of the study, this time delivered orally instead of behind the safe anonymity of Bucky's computer screen.</p>
<p>"Which part do you want to know about first?"</p>
<p>Natasha tilts her head, hair sliding off her shoulder with the movement. "Let's start by reviewing how many times you woke up from pain and then cycle back to that episode before bed."</p>
<p>Bucky takes a huge bite of cinnamon roll and chews. He likes Natasha, he does, but he also kind of hates her.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Natasha knocks on the door around one, startling Bucky from a super-intense study session in which he's mostly been thinking about Steve and cursing himself. "I'm grabbing lunch," she says. "Want to join me?"<p>His eyes flick to the camera, noting that it's off, so her invitation probably isn't contrived. "Sure it's ethical to grab lunch with your test subjects?"</p>
<p>She shrugs, mouth slanted and unperturbed. "I technically passed Ethics."</p>
<p>Bucky muffles a snort. "You really know what to say to comfort people." He closes the book around his notes, leaving his stuff on the desk for later. The door swings open wider, revealing that Natasha's lost the lab coat and is dressed casually in jeans, a plain white shirt, and a leather jacket belted at the waist. He grabs his motorcycle jacket from the end of the bed and follows her out of the building.</p>
<p>Once they've got sandwiches and drinks (coffee for Natasha again, water for Bucky) and are seated outside the Student Union, she puts her elbows on the picnic table and leans closer. "So, tell me more about Steve."</p>
<p>The temperature immediately shoots up and Bucky hides behind his free cup of tap water. "Steve my roommate?" he asks after a long drink.</p>
<p>"Yeah, the one you got into a not-fight with last night."</p>
<p>Bucky tries to keep his face blank, but the corner of Natasha's mouth twitches and he's certain she's clocked something about how he feels about the topic. He should have been suspicious when she didn't press him for more details about his "episode" before bed.</p>
<p>He shrugs, casually picking at the shredded lettuce falling off his hero. "He's my roommate. And it wasn't really a fight, or a not-fight, or whatever. Just… a misunderstanding."</p>
<p>"That you feel guilty about."</p>
<p>Bucky squints over his sandwich, uncomfortable with her interest and realizing this is the first time he's really <i>talked</i> to someone about Steve. His family knows the basic details of who he's rooming with, and Becca knows about the poems and the general theme of Steve's thesis, but he hasn't even told her about the not-a-two-bedroom-ness of their apartment or that he blew through his money to spend time with Steve or that despite his every effort to focus on his classes, he wants to knock all of Steve's books off his bed and suck face for a few hours like some horny teenager. "I'm sorry, are you studying sleep or psychiatry?"</p>
<p>Nat gives a quick shake of her head that resolves in a shrug. "Related topics."</p>
<p>Bucky groans, considers avoiding the conversation, and then decides there's no point. Who's it going to hurt for Natasha Romanoff to know the truth? "I sort of took some pictures of his sketchbook."</p>
<p>Her eyebrows tick upward. "That doesn't sound so bad."</p>
<p>"His poetry," Bucky admits, more to his sandwich than Natasha. "That was written in another language."</p>
<p>"That you then translated and read," she interprets. She sits back and finally picks up her hero. "Bold move, Barnes."</p>
<p>"I didn't know what it was. I didn't realize they were so… personal." The flush on his face flares when he thinks about the poems. The word <i>hunger</i> still itches at him, even though he never finished translating that poem. And he's not going to. Shit, he should delete the photos from his phone. He should have done that last night. He should do it <i>now</i>. God, he is such a fucking selfish idiot.</p>
<p>A boot toe jabs his shin. "Stop."</p>
<p>"Ow." He pulls his legs away from her stabby boots.</p>
<p>"Stop," Natasha reiterates. "It's done. No shoving that cat back in the bag, no changing what already happened. The past is the blaze you leave behind."</p>
<p>Bucky sets his barely eaten hero back on the wrapper. "Very inspirational."</p>
<p>"Motivational speaking is my hobby." She's so deadpan he can't tell if she's serious. "Not a fight, so... he wasn't mad about it?"</p>
<p>Bucky winces. That's the thing, isn't it? The question that's been tormenting him since he bolted from the apartment. "I sort of left in a hurry. Mostly he looked… embarrassed." And that is the gut-punch that really makes Bucky feel like a heel. He turned tail before Steve could break his heart, kick him out, and prove that Bucky doesn't deserve this second chance he's been fighting for. He left Steve looking so lost and uncomfortable. All to spare himself. <i>Way to show your quality, Faramir.</i></p>
<p>Natasha licks mustard from her finger, casual in the face of Bucky's mental turmoil. "How'd you get his sketchbook in the first place?"</p>
<p>He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the tension rope in his trapezius, and summarizes their midnight chat from a few weeks ago, the night when Bucky felt his feelings for Steve start twisting from a thirsty crush into something real.</p>
<p>"Are you sure he didn't <i>want</i> you to read those poems?" Her tone is suggestive enough that Bucky blushes. As much as he wishes Steve was writing about Bucky's sculpted shoulders and his <i>hunger</i> for Bucky—</p>
<p>"He was <i>so</i> red. And they're written in a language he didn't know I speak. There's no way he meant for me to read them."</p>
<p>"But you wish the poems were about you." Natasha grins and sits back, mumbling into her coffee, "Interesting."</p>
<p>"I didn't—"</p>
<p>"Didn't need to." Nat plants her chin on her fist, grin still in place. "James, is he the real reason you're having trouble sleeping?"</p>
<p>"Oh my God," Bucky laughs. His laughter does not admit anything. His non-denial does not admit anything. He has not said anything about how thoughts of Steve actually help calm him. "You're terrible, you know that? Terrible."</p>
<p>"Terribly accurate," she proclaims. "Are you gonna tell him?"</p>
<p>"About you being terrible?"</p>
<p>Her look is all the prompting he needs to stop playing dumb.</p>
<p>"No. I've dated roommates before and it never ends well. Plus, Steve—" He can't say it, can't admit out loud that Steve probably has a girlfriend because it is so depressingly pathetic that the first time he's had feelings for someone in ages, he's taken.</p>
<p>Natasha lets the silence sit, but Bucky waits her out. She finally says, "Sounds like a pickle."</p>
<p>"Mmhmm." Bucky picks up his lunch again, glad the conversation seems to be over but actually feeling a little lighter. Huh, maybe he needed to talk to someone about this. It's been a while since he had a friend he felt comfortable talking to about his love life—and, okay, maybe comfort and Natasha didn't exactly go together, but she had him talking about Steve.</p>
<p>Nat tilts her head to the side, hair spilling gracefully over her shoulder. "How do you think your feelings for Steve relate to the pain in your arm?"</p>
<p>Nah, he was right this morning, he kind of hates Nat.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Night Two goes a little better. He sleeps for longer periods of time, though he has to pull out <i>The Princess Bride</i> around three a.m. The stop at the university library that afternoon for a comfort read was totally worth it. The tingling in his arm is almost nonexistent the next morning, or at least dulled to what Bucky would classify as "normal." Natasha hums when he tells her that and then makes him fill out another pain survey.<p>She sends him home with a promise to email a sleep hygiene routine she wants him to use for the duration of the study. After he stops laughing about the phrase "sleep hygiene," he agrees. She flips him off, says, "That's for Night One," and thirty minutes later Bucky's on a train across town to Becca's apartment.</p>
<p>Shut up; he knows. He knows he's delaying the inevitable and he's only prolonging the torture of not knowing if Steve's going to yell at him or ask him to move out. But, counterpoint, if he buys Becca brunch, she might be more amenable to him showing up that night with all his worldly possessions and a desire to sleep on her (new) couch.</p>
<p>He hopes.</p>
<p>It's still early, but a bit after ten and he called this time. When Becca opens the door, her hair's piled in a messy bun and she looks kind of adorable in a polka-dot sundress. Bucky squints at the dress pattern when he discerns the black dots are actually faces.</p>
<p>"What the fuck is on your dress?"</p>
<p>Becca grins and holds out the skirt, showing off the fabric. "You like? They're Poe-ka dots."</p>
<p>"Poe. You have Edgar Allan Poe's face all over your body."</p>
<p>She grabs her purse and delightedly chirps, "Yep."</p>
<p>And in that moment, all of Bucky's worries fall away because his sister is so fucking ridiculous and he loves her a tremendous amount.</p>
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</div>Brunch sticks to generally safe topics. Becca gossips about her co-workers, Bucky complains about his classes, and they both blab about the books they've been reading—Bucky having to give a full report on <i>The Handmaid's Tale</i>, and Becca confessing she hasn't yet finished <i>Akata Witch</i>, but if he liked that, she's sending him <i>The Prey of Gods</i> next.<p>"Magic <i>and</i> A.I., Buck. The best of both worlds."</p>
<p>She pushes back when he insists on paying, and somehow manages to palm his credit card and swap it with hers before the waiter collects the check.</p>
<p>"I was trying to do something nice for you," he complains. The rest of his wallet is basically empty. The credit card slides in alongside his student ID, driver's license, library card, and a half-filled stamp card for the coffee place on campus.</p>
<p>"And this time I get to do something nice for you." She signs the check with a flourish and then wobbles a thoughtful frown at him. "You kind of seem like you need it. My brother calls me out of the blue and invites me to brunch in an hour? Yeah, that's normal."</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to deny it, but all his anxiety about Steve floods his thoughts and his arm fucking twinges. He makes a fist and tries to figure out what to say to Becca.</p>
<p>"You don't have to explain." She swishes the dregs of her mimosa and knocks back the glass. "You need to talk, I'm here. You need a distraction for—" She checks her phone. "—two hours, huh. I'm here."</p>
<p>He unclenches his fist, trying to force his arm to be normal. He feels like he should tell her. He explained basically everything to Natasha yesterday, and he hardly knows Natasha. Becca forgave him for being a total asshole to her both before and after his accident, including for making out with the guy she was crushing on and draining their parents dry with his surgeries and rehab. Her student loans had to be a fucking nightmare, and she was dutifully paying them back when Bucky was the one who fucked up. If she could forgive him for all that, she could tell him if Steve will forgive him now.</p>
<p>He bites his lip, worrying the hem of the cloth napkin. "I don't know how to say it," he finally says.</p>
<p>"Then call me when you do." She gently covers his fidgeting right hand. Her nails are black with white dots, the reverse of her dress, and if he were going to dodge Steve any longer, he'd have to ask her to do his nails like hers. (He might on another day.)</p>
<p>"I should probably go."</p>
<p>"Brunch was good, though," she says as she stands. </p>
<p>"Yeah." He sweeps her into a thorough hug, tugging on a curl that escaped her bun. "I don't deserve you," he says, feeling much too sentimental.</p>
<p>"Yeah, and I don't deserve you, but we all suffer our burdens." She gives him a patented Barnes Wink and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You know where to find me."</p>
<p>"I do," he promises. He walks her part of the way back to her apartment, breaking off once they hit the subway station. He gives his sister another hug and hopes he doesn't see her again today.</p>
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</div>Bucky almost turns back twice.<p>Where the hell he thinks he's going other than the apartment is a mystery. He also considers texting Steve first, but their text chain consists of one-sided conversations like, <i>is there milk?</i> and <i>Steve, answer a fucking text</i>, so Bucky's not sure it will do any good. </p>
<p>He finally puts himself on autopilot, tracking his boots up the stairs, jingling his keys, and letting the memory of Billy Boyd's haunting voice lead him through his own mist and shadow.</p>
<p>Steve's in his usual sprawl on the bed, engrossed in his books and notes, with a tweed jacket bunched under his hip. Most of the lamps are on, despite the diffused afternoon light spilling around the edges of the shades. The scene is so familiar, Bucky almost forgets why he's been dreading coming home, but his nerves thread his heart like Shelob's unbreakable webs. When Bucky drops his bag behind the armchair, an audible <i>fuh-whump</i>, Steve raises his head, bottom lip caught by his teeth. A sharp <i>tsk</i> slips out before he says, "Hey, Buck."</p>
<p>Awkwardness lingers in the air, or maybe that's just Bucky and his hour-long delay in returning the meager greeting.</p>
<p>"How was the sleep thing?" Steve pushes his glasses to his forehead and shuffles around on the bed to sit cross-legged.</p>
<p>"Uh, good. I guess." Bucky picks the tie out of his hair and starts finger combing imagined tangles. He took a longer shower this morning, successfully washing out all the glue. "Natasha bought me breakfast, which was cool."</p>
<p>Steve nods, hands folded in his lap. His shoulders hunch in when he asks, "Is that where you were?"</p>
<p>It takes Bucky a second to figure out what Steve means, and then he's pulling his hair into a sloppy bun, tripping over himself to explain. "Oh! No. I met up with my sister. I just… haven't seen her in a while and felt like I could take the time. I was already out." He shrugs in a way that reminds himself of Natasha's noncommittal shrugs.</p>
<p>"That's good."</p>
<p>"Yeah." Bucky knocks his fist on the back of the armchair, grappling for something else to say when Steve doesn't fill the gaping void of silence. "I guess you got a lot of work done on your thesis. Without me here. To distract you." Bucky inwardly cringes and considers the merits of throwing himself from the top of Minas Tirith. Maybe Denethor had the right idea, re: avoiding awkward conversations.</p>
<p>"I got work done." Steve's head bobs, glasses sliding forward, but he catches them and sets them aside, arranging them just so on a stack of books. </p>
<p>Steve sighs.</p>
<p>Bucky holds his breath. </p>
<p>"Okay." Steve throws his enormous shoulders back, the sudden determination startling the pants off Bucky, and his arm twinges when he jerks. "You, uh, the poems."</p>
<p>Bucky's face immediately heats. He can't control his blush, but he can prevent himself from retreating like he did before. That was shitty of him, and he spent most of the weekend paying the price. Whatever Steve needs to say, Bucky has to submit to it. He owes them both that much.</p>
<p>He squares his stance, curling his fingers around the back of the chair and trying to accept the consequences like a fucking adult.</p>
<p>Steve looks away. "I… I can't deal with it right now. Can we just… forget about them? Until my thesis is behind me?"</p>
<p>"What?" Can you say, <i>deus ex flying eagles</i>? Where the hell is this save coming from?</p>
<p>"I know. Maybe it's awkward, but I just can't." His hands clench on his knees. "It's too much to think about right now. With everything else. Is that okay?" Steve meets Bucky's eyes again, crystalline blue pleading for Bucky to understand. And Bucky doesn't understand—at all—except for the fact that he doesn't have to find another place to live in the middle of the semester and Steve maybe doesn't hate him.</p>
<p>"Yeah. I mean. Whatever you want. I just—" Bucky takes a deep breath and Steve winces, like he's the one who should be nervous. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've taken pictures without your permission, and the rest…." Bucky rolls his hand and then pushes it through his hair. "I'm an asshole."</p>
<p>Steve's lip twitches. "Thought we agreed I'm the asshole."</p>
<p>"Pretty sure we can both be assholes."</p>
<p>"I'm willing to share the title." That twitch at his lip again, but this time it resolves in the smallest of smiles. It's adorable and its appearance finally makes Bucky feel like things might be okay.</p>
<p>He extracts himself soon after to unpack and study. It's easier to concentrate, knowing that at least he still has a place to live, but his eyes keep drifting to his closed door, his thoughts to the man in the next room. Steve is a distraction, no matter what Bucky says. His feelings have bloomed out of control, the forest grown all the way up to Isengard.</p>
<p>He wants his life to work out. He's tired of being a fuck up. He can't keep making stupid, impulsive decisions because he wants to kiss his roommate. Something's got to change.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Greer/">E_Greer</a> for fact checking everything related to the sleep study!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Light in Dark Places</h2></a>
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A LIGHT IN DARK PLACES<br/>
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</div>To disentangle his affections from Steve Rogers and to save his heart from the inevitable moment when Steve has time to get angry at Bucky for invading his privacy and reading his poems, Bucky starts compiling a new list of things he knows about Steve Rogers:<ul>(1) Steve Rogers doesn't just have shit Elvish pronunciation; his whole thesis writing process is shit. For two months, he's been compiling research, handwriting notes, and reading bits of his thesis aloud, but now, two weeks before his thesis is due, he pulls a laptop out of nowhere and starts typing like a madman.

<p>His thesis is written, he claims, it's just spread out over a dozen notebooks, crossed out, amended, and in need of organization. That alone is enough to make Bucky's arm seize with anxiety, but it's not his load to carry.</p>

<p>(2) Steve Rogers is technologically inept and, even though Bucky shows him how to format his thesis using the university's rigorous guidelines, Steve shouts profanity for an hour before submitting his format review. Why does he choose to do this at three a.m. when Bucky is actually blissfully asleep and has a Stats quiz at nine o'clock the next fucking morning? Bucky has no idea.</p>

<p>(2a) Steve Rogers uses the most inventive curses when he thinks no one is listening, including one about elf ears that has Bucky laughing into his pillow. Maybe this belongs on a different list about Steve.</p>

<p>(3) Steve Rogers is utterly impatient when he's stressed out. On Wednesday, Bucky catches him crunching his way through dry ramen because Steve says he doesn't have the minute to wait for it to cook. Bucky nukes his damn noodles and shoves the bowl at him with a growl.</p>

<p>(3a) Steve Rogers apologizes later for being an asshole. Which doesn't make his behavior any better, but his eyes twinkle when he meets Bucky's glower, and Bucky's heart softens, and—okay, no, different list. Different list!</p>

<p>(4) Steve Rogers wears shirts that are too tight. Maybe he was scrawny before that muscle building study or whatever, but his nipples are visible. Through his shirt. What the fuck. He might be on a budget, but that's what thrift stores are for.</p>

<p>(5) Steve Rogers still looks perfect and fuckable even though he hasn't showered in three days. Again, this should probably go on a different list, but it annoys Bucky enough to go on this list because his own hair is a lank mess if he doesn't wash it regularly.</p>

<p>(6) Steve Rogers goes out of his mind for his thesis while Bucky Barnes goes out of his mind for Steve Rogers.</p>
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</div>Steve spends the majority of Friday night flipping pages and tossing notebooks while Bucky silently works out a few feet away. The frenetic chaos and frequent cursing are nowhere near as attractive as the taciturn contemplation and enthusiastic sharing of just a week ago, but it has Bucky wondering which temperament Steve favors in bed. He can imagine quiet tenderness giving way to loud urgency as Steve goes from caressing Bucky's shoulders and nibbling his earlobes to pinning his wrists and…. These thoughts aren't helping Bucky's situation at all.<p>He showers, hoping the water muffles any sounds that leak out, and then asks Becca if he can spend the weekend with her. He still doesn't know exactly what to say, but he breaks his sleep hygiene routine to text, <i>I'm ready to talk</i>.</p>
<p>She offers him the couch and use of her washing machine. He doesn't even need to bring his own detergent.</p>
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</div>"You're stupid, you know that?"<p>These are the first words Becca says after Bucky explains crushing on Steve, blowing through his carefully laid budget, and getting caught with the poems. But she leans back over his nails, meticulously applying another coat of Up All Night to fill in the streaks of midnight blue. </p>
<p>"<i>Thanks</i>." He shifts on his knees, bumping into the coffee table. The balled-up wrapper from his deli sandwich tips over the edge. "That's exactly the kind of thoughtful, nuanced feedback I was hoping for."</p>
<p>"You don't need thoughtful, nuanced feedback." A stray curl escapes her fluffy ponytail and twines over her forehead. "You need to pull your head out of your ass." She moves on to the pinky, giving it two flawless swipes before sitting back to recap the bottle. Six other bottles sit on the table beside her, all of them color coordinated with her living room decor. "Have you talked to Steve?"</p>
<p>Bucky closes his eyes and presses both hands into the table, wishing he had an invisibility ring. "Sort of?" Becca's brow is flattened in skepticism when he squints his eyes open. "He asked to forget about it," he explains. "At least until after he turns in his thesis. Which is due in like, a week." A week from Tuesday, specifically, not that Bucky knows Steve's entire schedule or anything.</p>
<p>"So, what happens in like, a week?" She mimics Bucky's exact tone and he'd flick her off if his nails weren't still wet.</p>
<p>"I guess Steve will… talk to me?" Bucky sighs and thunks his forehead on the coffee table, rattling the bottles of nail polish. He wants to believe everything will be okay with Steve, but he doesn't know. Things are okay <i>now</i>, even while Bucky struggles to not engage in fantasies about Steve's mouth and has been trying <i>really hard</i> to shut off his heart. But Steve is still Steve, and Bucky is still an idiot.</p>
<p>"If he hated you, I don't think he would have asked to forget about it. Even temporarily." Becca's sorting through her brushes when Bucky looks up. Apparently, she's feeling more artistic than the polka-dots they discussed over lunch. "That's what you're worried about, right?"</p>
<p>Bucky nods, wordlessly. She asked him a similar question the first time he tried to apologize for all the shit he'd done. He'd done it poorly and she cut through his bullshit, taking a chainsaw to the Fangorn Forest twisting his stomach.</p>
<p>"You're hard to hate. Even when you're an actual asshole. And in this case, I don't think you meant to be an asshole." She cups her hand under her chin, leaning her elbow on the table. C-3PO peeks from her sweatshirt; his wide eyes and slash of a mouth look shocked by Becca's language.</p>
<p>"I was supposed to just go back to school and get a degree. Get on a career path. Start my life over." He readjusts, unfolding his legs and stretching them out under the table, careful not to kick his sister since she's being so nice to him.</p>
<p>Becca hums and taps a finger on his left hand, confirming the polish is dry. "What? Finding a boyfriend isn't part of that?"</p>
<p>"Wasn't supposed to be."</p>
<p>"It <i>can</i> be."</p>
<p>He doesn't point out that she's crazy, but she's crazy. Not just about Steve being a possible boyfriend but because Bucky clearly cannot be trusted with this crush. He's lucky it's just his finances he ruined and not his grades. And he's even luckier that he caught it before it turned tragic.</p>
<p>Becca twirls a thin paintbrush before carefully dipping it in an opaque white lacquer and pulling his hand closer. "Just imagine if you can have everything you want, Buck. A new life and your own elf."</p>
<p>Bucky snorts and stops himself from telling her about the self-portrait in Steve's sketchbook. He's spilled enough of Steve's secrets just by confessing he's written love poetry in Elvish.</p>
<p>"I'm better off just focusing on school. My dick is not known for its decision-making skills."</p>
<p>"I <i>never</i> want to know what your dick is known for."</p>
<p>His chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he leans forward, trying to see around her hair. "What the hell are you doing with my nails?" She's taken only a few seconds on each nail, and the last few brushstrokes felt too deliberate to be any kind of random pattern.</p>
<p>"Just giving you something aspirational." She makes one last sweep and then sits back against the couch. Over the shimmering midnight blue background, Becca's written a letter on each finger of his left hand: S T E V E. Except the V is a heart.</p>
<p>Bucky can't help the way his heart clenches when he looks at it, and he should tell her to paint over it immediately, but instead he says, "You have to take this off before I leave."</p>
<p>She grins like a hobbit who scored a whole barrel of Longbottom Leaf.</p>
<p>Bucky doesn't complain when she paints his own name on his right hand (the B is a sideways heart, because his little sister is a little shit). If he spends their movie night tracing the slightly raised letters of Steve's name across his nails, that's all part of the process of getting over a crush.</p>
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</div>Becca cleans up his nails before he leaves Sunday afternoon, swiping another coat of midnight blue over the white letters. He can still feel the bumps of the heart in Steve's name, a constant reminder that's become his new obsession now that he's stopped staring at Steve's Elvish poetry.<p>Steve doesn't say anything about his nails, but he doesn't say much other than some grunts that could be an attempt at Entish. Bucky gives Steve a wide berth overnight, leaving his room only for necessities, and loses himself in <i>Defy the Stars</i>, the latest assignment from Becca, which she passed to him with utter glee. It takes him a while to suss out why she shoved it into his hands before he left, but now he can't decide if he identifies more with the emotionally resistant soldier or the self-actualizing android who obviously has a crush on her. Could be either, honestly.</p>
<p>Monday he leaves the apartment with a plan to stay out for as long as possible, leaving his hair loose to keep the back of his neck warm and bringing along a thermos of coffee so he's less tempted to try to fill his punch card.</p>
<p>Between classes he finds a sunny bench, pops in his earbuds, and scrolls to his Shush Study Time playlist, letting the acoustic guitars of filkers wash over him while he gets back to his Anatomy notes.</p>
<p>"Barnes!" The sharp voice cuts through the easy strains of "Goodbye, Hearth and Hall," and Bucky snaps a polite smile to his face when he spots Peggy crossing the lawn. The chaste pink cardigan is quite the contrast to her dazzling red lips, but her whole face softens when she smiles. "This is a pleasant surprise."</p>
<p>"Um, yeah." He pulls out his earbuds and pushes his hair back, hoping he doesn't look too wind-disheveled. "Haven't seen you around." Considering he's only seen Peggy once in two months of living with Steve, she's either not actually Steve's girlfriend or is smart enough to keep her distance while Steve finishes his thesis. Based on Bucky's luck and what he knows of Peggy, it's the latter.</p>
<p>"Oh, I suppose it's easy to stay busy." She spins a ring on her right hand, pinky flicking with the movement. "You look a bit caught up in your studies, am I interrupting?"</p>
<p>"Midterms, but it's okay." He tilts his Anatomy book and taps the cover. Anatomy test is tomorrow, Sports First Aid and Nutrition the next days, culminating with a Stats and Intro to Kinesiology double-header on Friday, which means this week is the prime time to stop thinking about Steve and start thinking about himself. (Not that it stops him from running his fingers over his secretly Steve-painted nails.)</p>
<p>"A lot of memorization, I take it."</p>
<p>He hums in agreement.</p>
<p>Peggy presses her lips together, and Bucky can feel the tether of their acquaintance stretching between them like butter scraped over too much bread. Her nose crinkles and she gives a sharp nod. "I won't take up much of your time, then. I was just wondering, how's Steve doing?"</p>
<p>He kind of hates the sound of Steve's name in her accent, but reminds himself she probably has more claim to say Steve's name than he does. Even if they're not dating, she's not the one who translated Steve's poems. And lied to him. And got caught.</p>
<p>He shoves all that down and says, "All right, I guess." </p>
<p>"Good." She wrings her hands, the only sign that she might have an emotion other than confidence. "I wasn't sure how he was handling final revisions. He tends to get a bit obsessive around due dates."</p>
<p>A restrained laugh lurches through Bucky's shoulders, landing in his wobbly smile. "Oh, that's what that is."</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes, shoulders dropping, and it annoyingly makes her look even prettier. "Yes, he's obsessive all the time, but on deadline he does things like forget to eat if no one intervenes."</p>
<p>Or he lacks the patience to prepare something as simple as instant noodles. </p>
<p>Bucky closes his book, keeping place with his phone and slinging his left arm over the back of the bench. "Are you asking me to intervene?"</p>
<p>She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, gold stud glinting in the sunlight. "Would you?"</p>
<p>Bucky opens his mouth, not sure of his answer. <i>Yes</i> would be the simple response, and he could get back to studying and Peggy could get back to whatever perfectly coiffed post-grad students do that isn't fussing over achingly hot, Tolkien-obsessed nerds. But then he'd be responsible for checking on Steve. At least for making sure he's eating. Maybe nagging him to get some sleep and take a shower. Bring him a towel fresh from the dryer. Wrap it around his shoulders and—</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Peggy says into his hesitation. She takes a step back, hand going into her purse and pulling out a phone. "I should just text him a reminder. Less intrusive of your time. I'm sorry for bothering you."</p>
<p>"No!" Bucky coughs, trying to pretend the word hadn't shot from his lungs like a bullet. "I mean, I can make sure we eat dinner together or something. I'm there every day. It's fine." Peggy's eyes widen with her smile. "I'll take care of Steve." The words hang guiltily in front of him: oh, how he'd like to take care of Steve.</p>
<p>"Oh, perfect. Thank you, Bucky. It's a relief." She continues her retreat, stepping back and not losing her balance even when she steps on a rock. Graceful when not looking, like a fucking elf, of course. "I owe you," she promises, before turning and heading back to the sidewalk.</p>
<p>Bucky flips his book open again and sighs. What was he saying about putting some distance between him and Steve?</p>
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</div>He pops out his earbuds as he approaches the apartment door, Blind Guardian's <i>Nightfall in Middle Earth</i> album blaring tinnily. He takes one steadying breath, pushes open the door, and blurts out, "Hey, you eat?" before he can second guess himself. The question's casual, off-the-cuff, a reestablishment of their usual habits, even though Bucky's been eating in his room for the last week and Steve hasn't really seemed to notice.<p>"Buck?" Steve glances over his shoulder and grunts, rolling to his side as he stretches. His shirttail separates from his pants, giving Bucky a peek of well-defined Adonis belt. <i>Is he not wearing underwear?</i> Bucky swallows and tries to throw that thought into the fires of Mount Doom. </p>
<p>Steve's arm settles across his stomach. "Did you say something about food?"</p>
<p>"Food!" Bucky agrees, startling himself with his eagerness to stop thinking about tracing his tongue over Steve's still visible hip. He busies his hands with winding up the headphone cord and stuffing it in his pocket. "You're supposed to consume some every few hours. Have you?"</p>
<p>Steve leans his head back, pushing his glasses up with the movement. "Probably… not?" he guesses. </p>
<p>That's an annoying answer, Bucky reminds himself. Annoying and not cute.</p>
<p>He drops his backpack and steps around the coffee table barrier, sliding some things aside so he can sit. "Have you eaten <i>today</i>?"</p>
<p>Steve sits up, crossing his legs. "Yeah, I had…." He scratches his fingers through his beard, which doesn't look nearly as well-groomed as usual. "Coffee." </p>
<p>At least Steve can be counted on to caffeinate himself.</p>
<p>"Solid food, pal. Hobbits cannot live on lembas alone."</p>
<p>"Coffee is not lembas."</p>
<p>Bucky fights back a lovestruck smile and holds up his hands. "I stand corrected. But also, lembas is more nutritionally significant than coffee."</p>
<p>Steve shifts his shoulders in a wobbling shrug, begrudgingly conceding the point. His thumb works in his palm, massaging the muscles there. Typing for hours every day for the last week, his hands must be aching. He shouldn't have waited so long to start typing. He shouldn't be abusing himself so badly that Peggy had to ask his roommate to look after him. He shouldn't be so exactly the person Bucky wants to take care of.</p>
<p>"Steve." The name comes out half-fond, half-exasperated, and all too close to Bucky's feelings for Steve. Without thinking about it, he wraps his hand around Steve's wrist, turns his hand palm up, and starts massaging the tendons with his thumbs. His hands stutter when he realizes what he's doing, how warm Steve's hands are, how soft the flesh is under his skin, but he keeps going, hoping that continuing the action will make it less weird.</p>
<p>Steve's mouth pops open and Bucky can feel Steve's eyes on him, even though he keeps his gaze rooted to his traitorous thumbs. He pats the back of Steve's hand—<i>like that will make this better</i>. His voice remains entirely casual as he pulls his hands back and then puts them behind him so they will stop doing stupid, impulsive things. "You want me to order Chinese?"</p>
<p>Steve nods, voice coming in a moment later. "Sure."</p>
<p>"Okay." Bucky stands and pulls out his phone, calling Steve's favorite Chinese place and ordering enough food to give them leftovers for a couple meals. He glances at Steve when he retreats to the kitchen, rattling off his credit card number and swallowing down the fear that he was once again spending money he didn't technically have. Thank God he gets paid for the sleep study next week and he'll have a hundred dollars to replenish his budget.</p>
<p>Order placed, he grabs a glass of water and hides in his room. Steve doesn't seem to notice his departure, pencil absently stuck behind his ear, laptop pulled into his lap to resume typing.</p>
<p>Peggy never should have saddled Bucky with caring for Steve. Bucky shouldn't have said yes. At some point in the last nine years he should have learned <i>some</i> self-preservation, but he was still diving off bridges, even if this one was metaphorical.</p>
<p>When the Chinese arrives, Bucky retrieves the food and doles it out on two plates. Steve doesn't look up from his cross-legged hunch until the food's under his nose and then he blinks up at Bucky from behind his glasses. </p>
<p>"Didn't you just order this?"</p>
<p>Bucky laughs and shakes his head, still holding a plate in each hand. "Pal, you have <i>got</i> to pull your head out of your thesis."</p>
<p>Steve sighs heavily. "Wish I could." He takes the plate, looking between the laptop and the food, obviously conflicted about which to deal with.</p>
<p>Well, Bucky can make it easy.</p>
<p>He picks up Steve's laptop and dumps it in the armchair next to his. </p>
<p>"Hey!" </p>
<p>Bucky freezes, expecting Steve to point out just how far Bucky's overstepping their already damaged roommate relationship, but Steve flicks his fingers at his computer. "At least shut the lid."</p>
<p>Bucky chuckles and presses fingertips against the laptop cover until it clicks shut. "You gonna be okay for ten minutes without your Precious?"</p>
<p>Steve squints at him from behind his glasses, but he's losing the battle to keep the smile off his face. He finally gripes, "Shut up," before digging into his dinner. He practically moans around his first bite. "Damn, I needed this."</p>
<p>Bucky gives the armchair a longing look, but falling entirely into their old patterns seems like a bad idea, especially when he needs to spend his time studying for midterms. "Enjoy it," he says. "I need to pull a Steve Rogers and get sucked into my textbooks. Midterms," he explains when Steve looks up.</p>
<p>Steve nods, understanding etched in his shoulders. "Well, when you need a break…."</p>
<p>Bucky's heart clenches at the offer so freely given after a week of distance and distraction. "Yeah." He ducks his head, hiding the relief of his smile. "I know where to find you." </p>
<p>He retreats to his room, but leaves the door open, so he knows Steve makes it about six minutes before retrieving the laptop.</p>
<p>It's fine, Bucky makes it eight minutes before he starts worrying the heart painted on his ring finger.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Renewed Shall Be Blade That Was Broken</h2></a>
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RENEWED SHALL BE BLADE THAT WAS BROKEN<br/>
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</div>After four days, the edges of his nails are chipped to hell and Bucky doesn't want his crush more blatantly obvious, so he folds over tissues and scrubs away the varnish. Steve notices his nails are flesh colored again the next time Bucky hands him a plate of Chinese food.<p>"I liked the blue" is all Steve says, and Bucky tries not to choke on the feelings crawling up his throat.</p>
<p>Since Steve actually noticed something about Bucky's physical appearance, he decides he won't sound too obsessed when he chucks a bath towel at Steve's head after dinner and says, "It's been bone dry for over a week."</p>
<p>Confusion crushes Steve's brow until his face pales, and then he pulls the towel over his eyes and flops back on his pillow. "Oh my God, do I <i>smell</i>?"</p>
<p>Bucky laughs, taking both plates to the kitchen because that is <i>not</i> an invitation to sniff his roommate. "Don't know, but flies have started circling your bed."</p>
<p>Steve's arm raises from under the towel, crowned with a middle finger. Bucky loses control of the sprayer when he bends over laughing, catching a shirt full of water. It's utterly worth it when Steve surfaces and howls over the sight of Bucky dripping in the kitchen.</p>
<p>"Thought I was the one who needed a shower."</p>
<p>Bucky almost flings his wet shirt at Steve, but thinks of the notebooks and laptop, and instead just flicks the water clinging to his fingertips. He leaves his shirt over the edge of the sink while he washes dishes, not watching Steve root through his dresser drawers. Despite being light on the showers, he's changed shirts nearly every day, but must be at the end of his wardrobe because he pulls out a pair of athletic shorts Bucky has never seen. "Guess it's all right if I tie up the bathroom?"</p>
<p>"Don't forget behind your ears," Bucky teases before Steve shuts the door. </p>
<p>It's not a plan—he swears—but when Bucky glances at his wet shirt and what must be Steve's full hamper, he piles their laundry together, sorts it, and takes it all downstairs. By the time he's defeated Shelob and gotten the washers going, Steve's lying in his nest, water-darkened hair slicked away from his face and beard freshly trimmed.</p>
<p>And Steve's fucking calves are hanging out of clinging athletic shorts, a sight which makes Bucky trip, falling face forward onto their threadbare rug, because he can no longer walk and be horny at the same time.</p>
<p>"Shit! Bucky! You all right?"</p>
<p>He rolls to his back and Steve is standing over him. Did you know that some athletic shorts are loose enough that at the right angle a roommate desperately trying to hold on to his sanity can see straight up the pants leg of his crush? Steve is definitely wearing underwear. Red. Bucky would like to remove it with his teeth.</p>
<p>"Buck?"</p>
<p>"Fine," Bucky groans, rolling to his side and trying to fight the blush from his cheeks.</p>
<p>Steve holds out his hands, plants his feet, and hauls Bucky up. Bucky's right in Steve's face, closer than he thinks they've ever been, hands in Steve's firm grip, and his breath catches in his throat, any hope of getting over this crush so far gone it's sailed into the undying lands.</p>
<p>"Thanks," he breathes. Or tries to anyways, because what might come out is a vaguely consonant-shaped moan.</p>
<p>Steve's hands dislodge, sweeping into his wet hair in two smooth motions that create space between them and leave Bucky drooling for his biceps. "Yeah, no problem. Sure you're all right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah." Bucky's arm tenses and he claps his hand above his elbow, digging into the muscle. <i>Not now, Barnes.</i> "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just gotta study. Last midterm tests are tomorrow."</p>
<p>Steve circles around the coffee table back to his bed, and <i>seriously</i> those shorts highlight every curve of his ass. "Must have been thinking about it pretty hard when you came in."</p>
<p>"Yes," he says, brain entirely disconnected. "It's hard." </p>
<p>Steve's hand freezes mid-reach and Bucky <i>hears</i> what the fuck he said. Oh, drown him in the Dead Marshes.</p>
<p>Thankfully Steve doesn't say anything else, and Bucky doesn't run into the doorframe as he enters his room. Twenty minutes later when he goes to move the clothes to the dryer, his face no longer burning, he keeps his eyes on his feet and absolutely does not look at Steve.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>After his morning exam, brain fried on something other than Steve's physique or proximity, Bucky spends the long break between his tests plugged into the podcast <i>That's What I'm Tolkien About</i> and making a huge crockpot of beef and vegetable soup.<p>Tonight starts the second overnight for the sleep study, and while he's promised to make sure Steve eats, he needs the money from the study as much as Natasha needs her lab rat. Which is why Bucky's resorting to bribery through the Barnes family cookbook. While Steve hunches away the afternoon, Bucky ladles, packing the fridge in neat rows of individual servings to get Steve through the weekend.</p>
<p>"Please tell me what I've been smelling all day is dinner. And that I get to eat it." Steve's head is still bowed, fingers clacking over the keyboard. "Otherwise I might have to fight you for it, and I've got a Sting replica around here somewhere."</p>
<p>Bucky's mouth pinches his smile, and he does not tell Steve he has a one-quarter scale Glamdring letter open. "Pretty cruel joke if I wasn't planning to share."</p>
<p>He flips the washed crockpot upside-down to dry and grabs one of the still hot bowls. Bucky brings it to Steve, grinning when Steve pushes his laptop aside and scrambles into a cross-legged position. Thankfully he changed from the distracting athletic shorts into freshly laundered brown slacks, which is better for Bucky's overall coordination.</p>
<p>"Your mom's recipe?" Steve's face lights up when Bucky nods, and he raises his glasses to pin back his shaggy mane. His eyes are bruised with a lack of sleep and he's got a tired look around his mouth Bucky recognizes from many months of sleepless nights, but Steve's eagerness fills the places in Bucky's heart Bucky is failing to hollow.</p>
<p>Bucky shakes off his dopey feelings and keeps his hand out after Steve takes the bowl, trying to stay on task. "Phone."</p>
<p>"Huh?" Steve's too busy shoveling soup into his mouth, so Bucky extracts the phone from the folds of Steve's navy bedspread. Miraculously it still has a charge, so he finds Peggy's number and texts her (absolutely not reading the message thread, but definitely noting that it's as one-sided as Bucky's own thread with Steve).</p>
<p><i>Bucky's at a sleep study this wknd. Pls make sure I eat. Bucky left me lots of yummy soup, and I just need to be patient enough to pop it in the microwave for 2 mins.</i> 🧙🧝🤓</p>
<p>He hesitates and then sends a second text with his number, in case of emergencies. </p>
<p>Finally, in one last ditch effort to save Steve from himself, he sets a repeating alarm on Steve's phone and holds it up.</p>
<p>"Steve. <i>Stevie</i>." He shakes the phone to get Steve to focus on it. "When the alarm goes off, get something to eat, okay?"</p>
<p>"Is that my phone?"</p>
<p>Bucky rolls his eyes and once again questions why he's in love with this idiot. "Yeah, buddy. Promise me you'll eat."</p>
<p>Steve blinks at him. His eyes flick toward Bucky's bags next to the armchair. "Oh, you've got your sleep study." </p>
<p>Bucky bites his lip, trying to shift the fluttering in his chest to relief instead of the dizzy joy that Steve knows his schedule. "Yeah. And I need you to not die this weekend, okay? So, don't forget to eat. There's more of that in the fridge."</p>
<p>Steve lights up all over again and gives an exaggerated, "Mmm," that Bucky thinks he really should recount to his mom, even if she figures out he's wooing Steve through her cookbook.</p>
<p>"Wait, you won't even be here this weekend to eat it?"</p>
<p>He focuses on searching for Steve's charging cable on the floor, trying to distract himself from the feeling expanding in his chest and the stray thought that he might be the Eowyn to Steve's Aragorn. (Except Steve actually <i>likes</i> his soup.) "Yeah, pal. Made it just for you."</p>
<p>The spoon clacks around the rim of the bowl as Steve leans over, face even with Bucky's when he emerges with the cable. Steve's eyes are hooded, crystal blue turned to wine-dark sea. Steve tucks his chin in his palm and sighs, "You take such good care of me."</p>
<p>The arrow of desire that slices through Bucky's lungs is fine. He's been doing things for Steve all week, so it's natural his heart is a little exposed. Nothing to be done for it now.</p>
<p>"Someone should," Bucky says, brandishing the phone and cable between them like a sword and shield. "And I like taking care of you."</p>
<p>Color springs to Steve's cheeks and he pulls his hand from his face, stammering something about hobbits Bucky can't even catch because he can't believe those words slipped out of his mouth. Fuck, he has to get out of here. He fumbles the phone charger as he inserts it and leaves the phone on the end of Steve's bed.</p>
<p>"I'll be back Sunday." His voice is mostly normal, though it sounds a little rougher to his ears. "I'm texting you tomorrow."</p>
<p>"Sure, sure." Steve's knocked his glasses back down and is staring at the laptop, but when Bucky leans over to pick up his bag, he's certain he feels eyes tracking his movement. He doesn't look back, though, and he double-times it to campus, trying to make an excuse for his rapid pulse.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>"I know I've got all your surveys, but I want to hear it from you: how are you sleeping?" Natasha's voice sounds even rougher than usual, and Bucky absently wonders how many subjects she's working with on other nights.<p>"Actually—and I hate to admit this—" Bucky scratches the back of his head, steeling himself for her inevitable smugness. "—but I'm sleeping better than I have in years."</p>
<p>The smile that stretches Natasha's face definitely ate a canary.</p>
<p>"Shut up. I don't want to hear about sleep hygiene." Following her routine has been pretty simple. It's mostly about consciously going to bed instead of crashing into it like Bucky has been doing his whole life. Dim light while he changes and pulls down the covers, no screens in bed, a little deep breathing and visualization once he's lying down. (The suggested visualization is the beach or a forest, but often Bucky winds up on walks in Rivendell with Steve at his side, which he is <i>never</i> reporting on one of Nat's surveys.)</p>
<p>One of the most important things, though, is to shut down recursive thinking, especially about his injury, which Natasha doesn't explain, but Bucky's been in enough therapy to read between the lines.</p>
<p>"You're going to keep doing it after this is over, aren't you?" Her smile hasn't moved, so Bucky decides he doesn't have to answer that question.</p>
<p>Nat finishes wiring him up and dims the lights as she leaves. He's sure she's smirking when she watches him turn down the bed and spritz the pillow with the lavender linen spray she recommended. Her routine doesn't forbid reading in bed, but heavily implies it should be done before getting in bed, so he's been (mostly) sticking to that. He spins the desk chair around, props his feet on the bed, and finishes <i>Defy the Stars</i>, texting Becca fifteen middle fingers and a plea to send him the next book in the series.</p>
<p>When he lies down in the dark and closes his eyes, the first image his mind conjures is Steve's face just a few inches from his own. Steve had caught him so off-guard with his softened eyes, dreamy sigh, and "You take such good care of me." The happiness that Steve had noticed Bucky's efforts—that Steve had <i>said something</i>—coils through his chest, unfurls in his limbs, and leaves Bucky warm and buzzing.</p>
<p>He rolls to his side—away from the ever-watchful Eye of Sauron for a moment of privacy—and traces his smile with his fingertips.</p>
<p>For once, his memory of Steve is better than any fantasy.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Bucky half expects Natasha to swing by around lunch, but he's starving just after noon and doesn't catch her in the hallway, so he takes <i>Every Heart a Doorway</i> to the Student Union and settles in a corner booth with a noodle bowl.<p>Somehow she finds him and slides into the vacant seat before Nancy's settled at Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children.</p>
<p>"You trying to ditch me?" </p>
<p>"Not exactly." He uses the jacket flap to mark the page and nestles the book in his motorcycle jacket on the bench.</p>
<p>Natasha pulls a bag of corn chips from her black hoodie and offers him one before digging in. Steve apparently isn't the only grad student with shitty eating habits. </p>
<p>"You slept better last night," she says, mostly to the bag of chips. The natural light from the window behind him flatters her sleep-deprived features and sets her red hair aflame.</p>
<p>"That observational or data-driven?"</p>
<p>A smile tugs one side of her mouth and she extracts a perfectly triangular chip. "Both. But it made me wonder how things are with your roommate."</p>
<p>His shoulders shake with his laugh. Maybe he'd been wrong about telling Natasha Romanoff the truth about anything.</p>
<p>"Better, I guess." He swirls the last few noodles in the lingering puddles of orange-tinted sauce. "He's been focused on his thesis, so we haven't really talked much the past couple weeks, but it's—" He shrugs and pinches the noodles between his chopsticks, letting them drip as he thinks. "I don't know. But he doesn't hate me." Bucky smiles around his bite, thinking about how much Steve doesn't hate him.</p>
<p>"You kiss yet?"</p>
<p>Noodles are very easy to choke on when evil psych students perfectly time invasive questions.</p>
<p>He coughs—a lot—and almost finishes his cup of water before replying (still coughing), "No!"</p>
<p>"Oh. This is pre-kiss bliss."</p>
<p>The accuracy of that statement is annoying. But it also suggests a kiss is coming, which makes the noodles in Bucky's stomach loop like Gandalf's fireworks. "Shut up."</p>
<p>"You need some more water?" Nat sweeps out of the booth without a response and returns with a cup of water in each hand. He takes one without saying thank you.</p>
<p>She doesn't say anything, carefully arranging her chips by size order across a napkin. After she crushes the empty bag flat, she eats the smallest one first, and Bucky defiantly says, "I'm not planning to kiss him." </p>
<p>"Of course not." She selects a chip from the middle of her line. "Just thinking about it. A lot."</p>
<p>Denying is pointless, and so is blushing, but one of those is involuntary. Also, Natasha has no idea what she's suggesting.</p>
<p>"He's my roommate. And I think I've crossed enough boundaries as it is. Sketchbook," he reminds her. "Translated poetry?" He's starting to feel less like a shit about those things, but still finds himself whispering his confession. A distant possibility exists that Steve might yet yell at him for the breach of privacy, but it's easy to forget against the memory of his darkened eyes, face a few inches from Bucky's, breathy words caressing Bucky's cheek.</p>
<p>Natasha leans her elbow on the table, squinting at him. "Why are you so resistant to happiness?"</p>
<p>The question is reminiscent enough of therapy sessions that he crosses his arms in anticipation of his muscles seizing. They don't.</p>
<p>"I'm not resistant to happiness. I'm resistant to dating my roommate." He unfolds his arms to push a strand of hair back behind his ear, and then he sweeps it all back, pulling a hair tie from his wrist to secure the low bun. "I have a lot on my plate. So does Steve." </p>
<p>Eyebrows go up, but she sits back, and doesn't say anything.</p>
<p>She doesn't have to because Bucky can hear his therapist gently telling him that happiness isn't a gold medal. It's not an award presented after years of training and a judged competition. It's also not something you earn after throwing a ring in a volcano, but that's his own addition, not a quote from his therapist.</p>
<p>He steals her third largest chip, crunching his way through it and washing it down with water before speaking. "Maybe I just don't want to screw it up. Because I've screwed up a lot of other things, and—" He swallows hard and picks up his phone to confirm he hasn't missed messages from anyone important. "And I really like Steve."</p>
<p>He catches the flash of Nat's smile from the corner of his eye, but when he looks up, she's schooled her expression to something more neutral.</p>
<p>"Maybe you won't screw it up."</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to protest, but then shuts it because maybe that's something he hasn't really considered.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Somehow Steve survives the weekend, and Bucky makes it through the sleep study without tearing back home to shove food into Steve's mouth when he doesn't respond to any of Bucky's texts on Saturday.<p>(2:55pm) <i>A man can survive a week without food. Doesn't mean you should test it.</i><br/>
(3:46pm) <i>Have you eaten something today?</i><br/>
(4:48pm) <i>Eat.</i><br/>
(5:22pm) <i>Steve, eat something.</i><br/>
(6:26pm) <i>Steve, fucking tell me you ate something.</i><br/>
(8:08pm) <i>Steve Rogers, there is a whole refrigerator of soup MADE FOR YOU.</i><br/>
(9:14pm) <i>The soup wants to be eaten.</i><br/>
(10:27pm) <i>Steve, you better not be dead!!!</i></p>
<p>When Bucky comes through the door, Steve looks at him with a manic smile. "I'm on the appendices!"</p>
<p>He's so deliriously happy, Bucky doesn't ask if he's eaten, but after Bucky stows his shit and changes into a clean long-sleeved shirt, he goes to the kitchen to make pancakes. A few pre-packaged bowls of soup remain in the fridge, but Steve ate three of them, so Bucky is calling that a rousing success. <i>Well done, Barnes. Thank you, Barnes.</i></p>
<p>He falls into a groove flipping pancakes, one ear trained on Steve's muttering (entirely in English for once), and the other plugged into a bardcore playlist. He loses it over a medieval cover of "Bye, Bye, Bye," but Steve doesn't seem to register the sudden peal of laughter from the kitchen. </p>
<p>When he drops a plate of pancakes on Steve's open book, Steve's head swivels to the pancakes and then up to Bucky, his smile softening and eyes focusing, transforming him into something closer to a world-weary ranger than a ring-obsessed Gollum. </p>
<p>Bucky dangles a container of syrup from his hooked finger. "Say when." </p>
<p>After a serving large enough to trigger a sugar crash later, Bucky slumps into his armchair with his own syrup-drenched stack of pancakes, pleased to watch Steve inhale about half his lunch before speaking.</p>
<p>"I still need to insert pictures of the stuff I've illustrated," Steve explains between bites. "I probably should have figured that out sooner."</p>
<p>Midterms behind him, Bucky has a hair's breadth of freedom, and while he'd planned to put a dent in <i>The Way of Kings</i>, he has more time and more technical skills than Steve, which are totally the only reasons he offers, "I could help."</p>
<p>Steve's wide eyes fix Bucky with a stare that is half-desperate and half-disbelieving. "I couldn't ask. You did so much for me last week."</p>
<p>Bucky tries to trap the pleased feeling fluttering through his chest. </p>
<p>"I mean, the soup. And the alarms." He ducks his head and bites his lip, the shy gesture almost enough to launch Bucky out of his chair. "I couldn't ask you to do more."</p>
<p>Bucky squares his shoulders, feeling like the Fellowship forming at the Council of Elrond. "Steve, your thesis is due in like two days, and you still have other things to finish. I think it's time you called in the cavalry." </p>
<p>Steve snorts and mutters, "Rohirrim."</p>
<p>Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his pounding heart. "Yeah, the Rohirrim, buddy. Let me save your Helm's Deep."</p>
<p>Steve's breath audibly catches. Panic flashes in Bucky's veins as he wonders if he's finally been caught out, if this is the moment when Steve realizes his roommate overstepped the boundaries of his privacy because he is stupidly in love.</p>
<p>But Steve just coughs and then stutters a laugh. "Fucking yes. Save this short-sighted fool. Gondor calls for aid."</p>
<p>
  <i>He's perfect.</i>
</p>
<p>Bucky chuckles, relief stuttering through him, and he nudges his plate on to the coffee table. He holds out a hand for Steve's notes. "Tell me what you need."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Deep into the evening, they're both still working on Steve's thesis. Steve types his appendices, and Bucky gathers every stand lamp around his desk so he can photograph Steve's Elvish script in the best light. He of course reads the first line of every page Steve hands him to confirm none of the poems are Steve Rogers originals. Not that an academic thesis needs any Elvish thirst poems. (Bucky needs them. Bucky needs them enough that he might start writing his own because Steve's jawline is beginning to personally assault him.)<p>Bucky calls it quits before Steve does, but uploads the pictures to his computer so he can edit them between classes tomorrow. He's moving one of the lamps back into place near the end of Steve's bed when Steve speaks.</p>
<p>"You don't have to keep making up for the poems." His voice is soft, and he keeps his focus on his laptop long enough for Bucky to gain control of the horror scampering across his face.</p>
<p>Steve sets his glasses on his keyboard and pushes back his hair. Shadows darken the lines on Steve's face until Bucky tilts the lampshade to its usual angle.</p>
<p>"I'm not?" He coughs, surprised when his voice doesn't come out in a hysterical squeak. "I mean, I sort of was at first, keeping my distance, but mostly—" Bucky breaks off. This is getting dangerously close to Admitting His Feelings or Real Reasons For Guilt territory. "You're kind of shit at taking care of yourself," he says instead. "Peggy warned me about you not eating."</p>
<p>The tension disappears from Steve's expression. "<i>Peggy</i>." His head drops and he nods deeply, as if all things suddenly make sense. And maybe Bucky should let them make that kind of sense. Easy to believe Steve's gal-pal would look out for him by enlisting his roommate. Simple way to pinch off moments of Steve desperately sighing that Bucky takes such good care of him.</p>
<p>But for as much as it's going to hurt when Steve breaks his heart, Bucky doesn't want to shut those moments down. And, like, he wants some credit for his hard work? Peggy Carter's not the only sad sack hung up on Steve Rogers.</p>
<p>"Yeah." Bucky scratches his neck, and before the silence can settle, he jerks his chin at Steve. "Notice you've got a clean shirt there." He keeps the smirk mostly off his face. </p>
<p>Steve looks down at his nothing-special-but-the-chest-beneath-it white t-shirt and then up at Bucky. Confusion and then understanding slide across his wrinkled brow. <i>There, let's see what he does with that.</i></p>
<p>He turns his head to his dresser. The hamper next to it is still practically empty. "Did you… fuck, did you do my laundry?"</p>
<p>Bucky arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms.</p>
<p>"Even my <i>underwear</i>?" The pink creeping into Steve's cheeks and the reminder of Steve's red briefs is almost Bucky's breaking point, but he keeps his spine straight and tries to remember how annoying it is to take care of someone so clueless. "Shit," Steve whispers. "I owe you, like, the <i>nicest</i> dinner."</p>
<p>Bucky presses his lips together in a futile attempt to flatten his smile and keep the butterflies in check. "I'll take you up on that."</p>
<p>"Okay," Steve promises. "After I turn this in. Tuesday night."</p>
<p>Bucky snorts, pleased when his sarcasm wins over the internal grinding jamming up his feelings. "Let's make it Wednesday. I know you. You're going to email your committee at two a.m., arguing that it's still technically Tuesday night."</p>
<p>"I would n—" Steve cuts off his own protest, huffs, and then chucks a book at Bucky's chest.</p>
<p>Bucky catches it easily and bursts out laughing when Steve immediately starts begging for it back because he needs to check a page reference.</p>
<p>He tosses it into Steve's pleading hands as he carefully steps around the far side of the coffee table. "Try not to stay up too late."</p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah." Steve cracks the book, already dropping back into his work, but before Bucky crosses the threshold of his room, Steve asks, "When did the overhead light get changed?"</p>
<p>Bucky shakes his head because Steve Rogers is the most unobservant, clueless person Bucky has ever met and he wants nothing more than to keep taking care of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Greer/">E_Greer</a> for fact checking everything related to the sleep study and sleep hygiene!</p>
<p>- I think I owned an LotR-sword letter opener at one point, but I feel certain Bucky owns <a href="https://noblecollection.co.uk/product/glamdring-letter-opener/">Glamdring</a>, not Andúril. (Also, probably, like me, someone else gave it to him.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Heeding Less the World Where Dark Things Move</h2></a>
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HEEDING LESS THE WORLD WHERE DARK THINGS MOVE<br/>
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</div>Bucky stays up with Steve the night he turns in his thesis. Okay, technically Bucky falls asleep draped over the armchair, mouth tilted open at an angle that must have left him snoring like a dwarf, but when Steve crows his success (just after two a.m., as predicted), Bucky pretends he's been awake the whole time.<p>"Go to bed," said in the most affectionate tone is the center of warmth that carries Bucky to sleep, sleep hygiene be damned. </p><p>When he's back from classes the next day, the book stacks have diminished, Steve's bed is made, and Steve is freshly showered, wearing a gray tweed jacket Bucky's never seen and pressed slacks that cling to him in the most frustrating and pleasing ways. His hair is brushed away from his face, glasses pinning it back, and his beard looks soft enough to pet. (Which is a totally normal reaction to have about a roommate's appearance.) It's the most put together the apartment (and Steve) have looked in weeks and it makes Bucky feel like a fool of a Took in his holey jeans, Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and oversized hoodie.</p><p>"Going somewhere?"</p><p>Steve grins and ducks his head, but Bucky catches the hint of pink staining his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I owe someone a nice dinner out. You remember, right?" His hand scrubs the back of his neck as he peeks up at Bucky, sheepish blue eyes tying Bucky's tongue. Steve's dressed like this for <i>him</i>?</p><p>"No. Yeah. I mean, of course I remember. Let me get changed. I need to change." And maybe shower and shave and find where the hell he misplaced his ability to speak to Steve without falling over himself. "You okay waiting long enough for me to get ready?"</p><p>Steve's smile takes over his face. "I'll keep myself busy." </p><p>Bucky takes a long time selecting an outfit, finally settling on a pair of black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved burgundy Henley that will look good under his motorcycle jacket. His hands jerk back from the shirt. </p><p>These are date clothes. But this is not a date. This is Steve repaying Bucky for his kindness. It's <i>not</i> a date.</p><p>It's hard to think anything else given how good Steve looks.</p><p>With an internal groan, he goes to shower, only looking up long enough in the common area to see that Steve's sitting in his armchair with his sketchbook. He's humming "Concerning Hobbits," the same song that had been plucking from Bucky's dangling earbuds when Steve startled him awake last night. Coincidence. That song is awesome, and Steve has probably seen the <i>Lord of the Rings</i> trilogy fifty times.</p><p>He tries not to think about Steve in the shower, but there is grinning. Much grinning. And all of it is fueled by his conversation with Natasha, pre-kiss bliss and the possibility that maybe this is a thing and maybe he won't screw up with Steve.</p><p>After a quick assessment of his face in the foggy mirror, Bucky decides the stubble is ruggedly handsome. He fucks with his hair for a long time, finally giving up and blow drying it before threading it into a high ponytail. </p><p>He takes a deep breath as he steps out of the bathroom and is not disappointed by the stunned appraisal that leaves Steve with wide eyes and a parted mouth. Maybe Bucky's not as gameless as he's felt the past few weeks.</p><p>"Guess I pass muster?"</p><p>"Yeah," Steve stutters, body following Bucky as he passes.</p><p>Bucky's working into his jacket when Steve grabs the collar from behind, silently holding it steady while Bucky gets his bad arm in the sleeve. It's unnecessary, but entirely welcome, especially when Steve reaches over Bucky's shoulder to get his scarf. The pale blue brightens Steve's eyes and, while Bucky's breathing restarts, Steve holds the door open for him.</p><p>"What a gentleman," Bucky teases, but his face is flooded with heat and his heart is in his throat, and at least he won't get cold if the temperature takes a dip.</p><p>Steve leads them a few blocks away to yet another hole in the wall Steve knows about but Bucky hasn't bothered to discover. "I know you're the king of pasta in the apartment, but they have the best lasagna in the city, and I thought you'd love it."</p><p>Bucky's eyes have turned into literal hearts. Steve thought Bucky would love the lasagna here. He picked this place for Bucky, not just to celebrate Steve's slog through his thesis or to thank Bucky for feeding him and doing his laundry, but he picked this place because he thought Bucky would like it. Bucky will, undoubtedly, <i>love it</i> just because Steve picked it <i>for him</i>.</p><p>"Oh, thank God, I'm not late." Peggy's voice catches him in confusion, and he turns toward the sound of her heels clicking up the sidewalk. Her red dress is a stunner that puts whatever Bucky's wearing to shame, and with that thought, every light, feathery feeling inside him is instantly doused. Goddamn, he's such an idiot.</p><p>Steve greets her, leaning in for a kiss on his cheek. Peggy hesitates before giving Bucky a half-hug and pressing her cheek to his.</p><p>"Hi," he says, doing a poor job of injecting some life in his voice.</p><p>The smile slants off Peggy's face and she turns to glare at Steve. "Did you not tell Bucky I'd be joining you?"</p><p>"I, uh." He looks helplessly at Bucky, brow furrowed and lower lip protruding. Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "I may have forgotten?" Steve finally offers. "Sorry?"</p><p>Fuck himself for getting his hopes up. And fuck himself more when he opens his mouth and saves Steve's ass from the dressing down Peggy's cooking between them. "It's a surprise, but a good one. Nice to see you again."</p><p>"Are you sure?" The concern on her face settles the last of Bucky's disappointment and replaces it with a flare of alarm and the sudden understanding that—somehow—she knows about Bucky's crush.</p><p>"Yeah." He swings an elbow to her, offering his arm. "You were his first reader, after all. Makes sense we should all celebrate together." He throws Steve a smile, a lump catching in his throat, and escorts Peggy into the restaurant.</p><p>Peggy squeezes his arm and whispers, "You are too good."</p><p>He meets her eye and hopes his smile doesn't look as sad as it feels.</p><p>They let Steve take the lead and order for them, though Peggy nixes his drink order and orders a bottle of wine for the table. She and Steve are good together, the way they banter and talk over each other while actually hearing what the other one is saying, and Bucky can't help but wish his relationship with Steve was as easy as that.</p><p>"Well, since no one else has called for a toast, I suppose it's down to me." Peggy lifts her glass and dons her sharp smile. "To Steve. For finally finishing his magnum opus, and—" Her glass swings toward Bucky. "To the friends who helped him get there."</p><p>Bucky lifts his glass higher in recognition, planning to deflect and include Peggy, but Steve speaks up.</p><p>"To the friends especially." Steve cuts his eyes to Bucky. God, how can one look from the man make Bucky so breathless? "Poor Steve wouldn't have got far without Bucky."</p><p>Bucky recognizes the quote and his hand drops without him taking a single sip. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Steve even said it in the same tone as Elijah Wood's delivery at the end of <i>The Two Towers</i>.</p><p>"I'm being sincere!" Steve's hand is also drooping, a blush climbing his throat and cheeks. He's adorable, sincere, and so ridiculous that Bucky's heart might burst.</p><p>He covers half his face, shoulders shaking with laughter. "That make me Bucky the Brave?"</p><p>"You'd make a very good Samwise," Steve insists, but he's cracking up, too, and Peggy glances between the two of them before rolling her eyes and knocking back her glass. Bucky would feel guilty for leaving her out, but he's basking in the warmth of Steve's laugh and the fact that he can still have this with Steve, even if this isn't a date.</p>
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</div>Steve's first day truly "thesis-free" is spent catching every typo in a printed copy of his thesis. He screams in horror a few times, shouting abhorrent (and sometimes hilarious) typos to Bucky where he sits at his desk with his door open, until Bucky finally throws in the towel on studying and moves to the living room to work out.<p>"I can't believe I submitted this to my committee. They're going to think I'm an idiot." The pages sit on top of Steve's face where he's abandoned them. A red pen rolls from his fingers off the edge of the bed. "Why didn't I at least run spellcheck?"</p><p>Bucky combs his fingers through his hair, pulling it into a high bun to keep it off his neck. "Because your thesis is full of Elvish and it would take six hours just to check all those words."</p><p>Steve groans, shuffles the papers together and then sits upright, looking around until Bucky says, "Floor," and Steve finds the pen.</p><p>"You're working out?" Steve asks, though the answer is obvious when Bucky shakes out his bared arms and grabs his weights.</p><p>"Needed a study break."</p><p>"Mmm." Steve's eyes follow the path of Bucky's weights. Bucky does his best to ignore those eyes and not analyze the possible meaning of Steve's undivided attention by counting reps in his head. When he switches to the next set, Steve tosses his stack of paper to the side.</p><p>"Maybe I need a break, too." Steve digs in his books, pulling out a dogeared and heavily tagged paperback. The cover's tapped on, clear packing tape reflecting the light and obscuring the cover image and title. Steve fluffs up his pillows and lies back down, back propped up and ankles crossed.</p><p>"Prologue," Steve says in a loud, clear voice. "Concerning Hobbits."</p><p>Bucky maintains his grip on his weights and arches an eyebrow, but Steve's too captivated by <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> to notice Bucky's surprised amusement. Bucky loses count a few times, distracted by Steve's animated voice and the imagery playing across his mind's eye, complete with Howard Shore's soundtrack. He has never given a lot of thought to a boyfriend reading <i>Lord of the Rings</i> aloud to him, but Steve's definitely turning that into a fantasy.</p><p>When he hits the end of the Prologue, Steve turns the page, even though his voice has grown hoarse.</p><p>"You planning to read me the whole thing?" Bucky interrupts. He put down his weights a few pages ago and has been idly stretching, waiting for Steve to reach a stopping point.</p><p>Steve looks up, almost as if he's only now realized he's been reading aloud or that Bucky's even there.</p><p>"Uh, I thought maybe it'd be nice." His cheeks are almost the same pale pink of his shirt. "When we need breaks?"</p><p>If he wasn't already in love with Steve, that might have done it.</p><p>Bucky comes around the side of the armchair, leaning over the coffee table, hand extended. "My turn," is all he says. When Steve hands him the book, Bucky settles back in the chair, puts his feet on the coffee table, and starts reading about Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party. He keeps his eyes on the page, though he's dying to see Steve's reaction. When he finally looks up, Steve's settled on his side, arms crossed in front of him, glasses pushed up, an easy smile sliding across his lips. It's everything Bucky could have hoped for.</p>
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</div>Even though he's got a prospectus for a term paper due next week, Bucky can't entirely ignore Halloween. He's not quite brave enough to go to class in costume, but pops in vampire fangs in the afternoon and attractively smears fake blood down his chin and throat (and over Becca's studded choker, oops). When he comes out of his bedroom to show Steve, Steve's in the bathroom, robed in a green tunic and applying elf ears.<p>Bucky leans against the doorframe, grinning ear to ear. "I don't know why I expected anything else."</p><p>"Go back in your room. I'm not done." He brushes one of the skin flaps down, eyes flicking between the mirror and Bucky. "What?"</p><p>"Taking this thing a little far, aren't you?"</p><p>"It's the only last-minute costume I have. You're the one who said we should go out tonight." His frown is ruined by the bright spark in his eyes. He'd been as excited as Bucky about the suggestion to hit the Tolkien bar tonight. Apparently, they have a pretty good costume contest that draws a lot of local cosplayers. Not that Steve will be winning any awards for his elf ensemble if he isn't planning to shave. Unless he's going as Legolas and Gimli's love child.</p><p>Bucky wiggles his bloody fingers at Steve. "Mind if I steal the sink?"</p><p>Steve steps back while Bucky washes off the excess makeup, Steve tilting his head around Bucky's reflection. One of the latex edges keeps curling back on him, though, so when Bucky's hands are dry, he turns around and jerks his chin at Steve.</p><p>"Looks like you could use some help, pointy ear."</p><p>"Yes." Steve huffs, hands dropping. He leans toward Bucky to narrow the gap in their heights. "I swear I did this all on my own last time. I don't know why it's not sticking now." He pulls his head away. "Sure your vampire hands are blood-free? God, you're a messy eater." </p><p>Bucky laughs at Steve's teasing and tries to ignore the delusion that Steve's eyes linger on his bloody throat. He presents his hands for visual inspection before relieving Steve of his paintbrush and getting a closer look at the prosthetic. The color's already a perfect match against Steve's skin, and the ears are a better quality than the cheap ones Bucky's worn to conventions. "You wear these often?"</p><p>The pause before Steve says, "No" is a little too long to not be completely incriminating, but Bucky mostly stifles a giggle and adjusts the latex so it finally lies flat.</p><p>Steve admires the work, a pleased smile tugging his mouth open. "Okay, do the other." </p><p>Bucky lets Steve position the ear, and then applies the glue where it's needed, mostly using the brush, but also delicately pressing fingertips to the shell of Steve's ear. He brushes an errant hair out of the way, sliding his pinky into Steve's soft mane.</p><p>Steve's shoulder twitches, goosebumps visible on his throat. "Tickles," he whispers, in a tone that makes Bucky blush.</p><p>Finally, both ears are secure and meet Steve's approval, but Steve's still wearing a beard. "You're not—?" Bucky mimes a razor on his cheek, finding himself unable to even <i>ask</i> if Steve is going to destroy his gorgeous beard.</p><p>"No!" The horror in Steve's voice turns to dismay when he looks in the mirror. "I didn't think this through."</p><p>Bucky bursts out laughing. "Let's leave the blond wig at home and go for a different twist on Legolas." He looks around and finds Steve's glasses folded behind the faucet. "Maybe something… hipster?" He carefully guides the arms around Steve's ears, sliding the glasses up Steve's nose, and then realizes Steve is completely frozen. Bucky is very seriously encroaching personal space.</p><p>"That's good," Bucky says around a swallow as he lowers his hands. The air in the cramped bathroom is close and warm, heated by their breath and bodies. It holds Bucky, keeps his gaze on Steve's face, his words soft and quiet. "You look… good."</p><p>"Yeah?" Steve's lower lip glistens where he recently licked it.</p><p>"No, yeah, you're good." Bucky nods and steps back, knocking the trash can and sending it scraping across the tile, which is the perfect, ear-curdling sound to send him into full retreat. "We should get going if we want to grab a table." As soon as he steps over the threshold, a draft sweeps his back, triggering a deep breath as he escapes.</p><p>While he curses his cowardice, he throws on some leather cuffs to finish off his punk vampire look, and grabs his motorcycle jacket, making sure to keep the collar away from his makeup. Steve's usual blue scarf doesn't quite match the costume, so Bucky grabs a brown one from his room and chucks it at Steve.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"It matches your costume, punk. Wear it."</p><p>Steve swaps scarves with some reservation. "But it's yours."</p><p>If Bucky gets a small thrill out of Steve wearing his scarf, that's just a windfall of fashion. "So don't spill beer on it." He sweeps open the door, gesturing out into the world in a dim effort to distract Steve. "Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?"</p><p>Steve catches a sputtering laugh. "Our same shitty hallway that's always there?"</p><p>Bucky flicks him off with one hand and pulls up a playlist with the other. "For that." He hits the playlist, a grin firmly in place while the drums and midi-horns play the up-tempo "Shire" theme that starts the Albino Blacksheep classic "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard."</p><p>Steve laughs. "You're getting a jump on the bar. Guarantee they play it six times tonight."</p><p>They play it seventeen, and every Legolas stands to recite their lines, some of them taking parts to make the <i>gards</i> echo around the bar. Steve does not win any awards for his costume, but Bucky wins one for being one of the few non-Tolkien themed costumes. All five of them get a plastic leaf of Lorien to pin to their shirts. Despite quoting <i>Lord of the Rings</i> twice in front of Steve today, Steve still explains what the leaves of Lorien are. Because of course he does.</p>
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</div>Steve flips the tail end of his tie over again—the third attempt since Bucky arrived for Steve's thesis defense—and still fails to make a knot. "Why did I think I should wear a tie?"<p>Bucky bites his tongue to contain his first thought, <i>to fulfill my professor kink fantasies</i>, and instead drily tells Steve, "Elves don't wear ties." Steve snorts, a relaxed smile ghosting over his lips, but he keeps fighting with the fabric.</p><p>"The better question is why you didn't think to tie it at home." Peggy's caught in the light of the one window in the aging linguistics hallway, looking perfect in a light blue blouse that's basically the same color as Steve's eyes. Bucky's not so out of place today, wearing a gray button-down and black slacks that got a few interested looks from the girls in his Anatomy class (and a slack jawed, slow blink from Steve when Bucky exited the stairwell), but somehow next to Peggy, he still feels a little like second place.</p><p>"It looks professional," Steve says, answering his own question. He threads the tie through the loop and winds up with an anemic, strangled knot.</p><p>"You're hopeless," Bucky says, swatting Steve's fumbling hands away from his tie. He starts confidently, leaving extra length on one side and wrapping the longer end around the shorter side, but doing it in reverse trips him up and Bucky's attempt winds up sliding right out of the knot. He rolls his eyes at himself and tries again, his arm tensing when his second try fucks up, too, but Steve totally doesn't need a tie, so he yanks the tie from Steve's collar.</p><p>Steve's eyes are wide as saucers, self-deprecation frozen on his tongue, and Bucky realizes he might have growled at the offending business wear. He looks over his shoulder at Peggy's equally wide eyes, and then around at the closed doors, grateful it's just the three of them in the paneled hall.</p><p>"Sorry," Bucky mumbles, briefly squeezing his hand into a fist. "You look fine without a tie." He undoes the top couple buttons of Steve's shirt, fighting to make sure his brain doesn't short out and his fingers don't keep going. "Very… academic."</p><p>Steve's cheeks are as bright red as Bucky's, but at least he's stopped whining about his fucking tie.</p><p>Bucky winds Steve's tie around his hand and shoves it in his pocket, taking a step away from Steve so he doesn't keep fussing over him. Why does Bucky feel as nervous about the defense as Steve looks?</p><p>Peggy clears her throat and changes the topic. "You annotated a printed copy, right?"</p><p>Steve taps the binder on the table next to him. "Just like you suggested." </p><p>In between chapters of <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Steve has been flagging his thesis, creating a secondary table of contents geared toward questions his committee might ask and things he wants to discuss. It seemed like a lot of additional work, but Peggy, shoes off and perched in the other armchair after work one day, assured them it would be worth it to avoid a lot of page flipping during the defense.</p><p>"Nothing is more unsettling than being unable to find the argument you wrote," she said while poking through the dregs of a Chinese take-out container.</p><p>Bucky hadn't been able to give advice during the defense strategy session, but from the way Peggy grinned at him and then asked how midterms went, he felt less like <i>Steve's roommate, unfortunately in love with Steve</i> and more like <i>Peggy's friend</i>, or at least <i>Peggy's coconspirator</i>. Which is why he feels a little guilty that he's still comparing himself to her. His therapist would probably commend him for recognizing his behavior, even if he still feels unsettled around someone his age who obviously has her life together.</p><p>Steve's committee arrives soon after, trickling in and out of the meeting room as they have to double back to collect things from their faculty mailboxes or make some quick copies or leave the department chair a message. Peggy pulls Bucky to the far end of the conference table, letting Steve and his committee sit opposite each other at the head.</p><p>They're quiet during the tense discussion, and even though Bucky's heard every detail about Steve's thesis over the past two and a half months, Steve talks about it differently with his professors and peers, dipping into shorthand that Bucky can almost follow and using technical terms he absolutely doesn't. Steve is smart and competent and, when he pushes his glasses against his brow and starts reading from the manuscript, really hot.</p><p>Like Aragorn-pushing-open-the-double-doors-at-Helm's-Deep hot.</p><p>Everyone is kicked out of the room while the committee deliberates, and Peggy gives Steve a hug, threading her arms around his neck.</p><p>"Wonderful. You did so well."</p><p>Steve punches Bucky's shoulder, still holding Peggy with one hand. "What did you think?"</p><p>"You're a nerd," Bucky says, instead of gushing about how brilliant and passionate Steve is.</p><p>Steve laughs, stepping away from Peggy. "No one's arguing that, you jerk." He hesitates, and then grabs Bucky and pulls him into a hug. Bucky isn't sure what to do, his hands hanging by his sides until Steve whispers, "Thanks for all your help, Buck," and then Bucky's hugging him back, finally realizing he has permission and that Steve's spontaneous touch is a gift Bucky can keep.</p><p>The committee calls Steve back into the room soon after, their congratulations spilling into the hallway before the door is closed. Peggy and Bucky come together, facing the closed door, hands lacing like old friends instead of acquaintances linked by one man.</p><p>"He did so well," Peggy says. "I'm so proud of him."</p><p>"Yeah. They asked some tough questions." He turns to Peggy, confirming he's right about that.</p><p>"And he handled them admirably." She grins broadly and leans in to bump her shoulder against Bucky's, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "I should get going. Tell him I said congratulations. We'll have to do dinner soon. Champagne this time." </p><p>Bucky's stomach twists and, despite his hollowness at having to share Steve again, he decides to do the right thing. "Brunch on Saturday. We already made a plan. You can come, if you want."</p><p>"Are you sure you want me to come?" The way she asks it confirms she knows. About this thing happening between him and Steve that Bucky hasn't let himself think about in more than passing. But if Peggy's noticing it, Bucky feels less like he's making it up.</p><p>"Yes, Steve deserves celebrating. With more people than just me. And it's not—we're not—" Is it hot in here?</p><p>Peggy's lips close on her smile and she presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "Make sure you celebrate with him tonight too." She gives Bucky's hand one last squeeze, seemingly unaware of the fact that her suggestion of celebrating alone with Steve has caused Bucky's brain to reboot. By the time he's reloaded, Peggy's waving at him from the elevator.</p><p>Bucky's beginning to think that he has seriously underestimated the depth of their coconspirator status. </p><p>When Steve comes back with a stack of notes and paperwork he has to run around campus, he's all smiles and doesn't even ask where Peggy went. Bucky doesn't have a lot of time before his next class, but he walks Steve to the dean's office and gets the run-down of everything the thesis committee said about what Steve might do about publishing and doctoral applications. Even though Steve's whole future sounds like it's being offered on a platter, for once Bucky feels happy hearing about someone's life going according to plan.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. We Could Do with a Bit More Queerness</h2></a>
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WE COULD DO WITH A BIT MORE QUEERNESS<br/>
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</div>Bucky wakes in the middle of the night, grabbing for his arm. Searing pain from clenched muscles shoots from his forearm, coalescing in his shoulder. He barely withholds a curse or a scream, he's not sure which, but he's too tired to stop the tears that leak down his cheeks.<p>"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers as he starts to tolerate this new, sharp pain, finding the space between the aches that feels normal. Fuck, he forgot how bad it could get.</p>
<p>He tries to breathe through it, deep breaths that aggravate the sore muscles in his back. Massaging his arm sends fresh agony piercing his shoulder. It's all fucking bullshit, and when he rolls, pressing his face into his pillow, he realizes the light is still on under the door.</p>
<p>Steve's still awake.</p>
<p>He pushes up, holding his arm tightly against his chest, and stumbles his way out to his armchair.</p>
<p>"Buck?"</p>
<p>Bucky grunts, making no overtures to hide his pain for once. His hair feels like a rat's nest, so he swipes his good hand over it in an attempt to look marginally more presentable in sleep rumpled sweatpants. When his eyes meet Steve's face, all he sees is worry. </p>
<p>Bucky takes a slow, deep breath, steeling himself for the stab of tight muscles being forced to stretch. He clears his throat, hoping his voice won't sound like a whimpering plea. "Read to me?"</p>
<p>"God. Of course." Steve scrambles to push his revision notes to the side and pick out <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>. They put it down after Steve's defense—Steve's been busy the last week with thesis revisions and Bucky's been swamped in his own work (which is probably the cause of his anxiety ratcheting enough to cause spasms)—but they're nearly to Amon Hen and the end of the first book. Steve opens and then immediately closes the paperback. "Have you taken anything?"</p>
<p>"What?" It takes Bucky a second to sort through the question before he can say, "No. I should. Can you—?" But Steve's already up, and apparently knows exactly where Bucky keeps his painkillers because he's back with the right dosage and a glass of water a few seconds later.</p>
<p>He kneels next to Bucky while Bucky takes the pills, glasses abandoned and leaving Steve's face exposed, expression unguarded. The pinch between his brows seems more pronounced, but his mouth is level, the concern confined to his eyes. He takes the glass from Bucky when he's done, warm hand enclosing Bucky's good shoulder for the briefest of reassuring moments. Bucky's going to be thinking about that gentle squeeze for the rest of the night.</p>
<p>Steve settles down with the book finally, sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. Bucky keeps his eyes open for a few minutes, watching Steve's mouth move, and then he closes his eyes, letting Steve's voice drift over him as the Fellowship breaks and so does Bucky's pain.</p>
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</div>Bucky doesn't sleep in the armchair, but it's nearly dawn when he collapses again in his bed. His snoozed alarm vibrates him awake with enough time to brew a thermos of coffee and glare at every smiling person he passes on the way to Statistics. Smiling before nine a.m. on a Monday, what monsters.<p>Walking back to the apartment is a slog, but he can't afford on-campus lunch after the two outings to celebrate Steve's thesis defense. Not that either was particularly expensive—a few drinks at the Tolkien bar with just him and Steve, and then brunch on Saturday with Peggy (Peggy sprang for mimosas)—but the expenditures were enough to deplete his restaurant budget. Plus, he needs to plan for lunch and dinner at the sleep study this weekend. Maybe he can bring a sandwich, or maybe he should just go home in the morning. Or maybe he should tell Nat he can't come this weekend because he has that fucking Nutrition paper due right after Thanksgiving and the Sports First Aid presentation the day before. Who assigns presentations the day before a holiday?!</p>
<p>He's in a mood when he opens the apartment door, seriously considering skipping lunch so he can take a nap.</p>
<p>"Hi!" Steve. In the kitchen. Holding a plate in each hand. "Made us lunch." His smile is weak and nervous, and he's wearing the same wrinkled clothes he had on last night. </p>
<p>"Did—You made—What are—" Bucky can't finish a fucking sentence, so he just takes the sandwich Steve offers and says, "Thank you."</p>
<p>They eat in the armchairs, Steve tapping socked feet on the coffee table and talking about the revision notes from his thesis committee. He's got a lot of work to finish before he turns in the final version, but it helps that he proofread before the defense, so he's already fixed most of the typos and grammatical errors.</p>
<p>Bucky's still in a fight with coherency, so he distractedly nods and concentrates on making sure he's not breathing when he swallows.</p>
<p>"Wow. You are really having a rough day, huh?" Steve's glasses sit on his head, pinning back most of his hair, but a tuft adorably winks out on one side.</p>
<p>"Ah, you know how the night was." Bucky pushes back in the armchair, wishing it was a recliner. "Just got so much on my plate. Some of my final projects are more involved than I expected." Papers for two classes, presentation in another, not to mention final exams in all five. Why the fuck did he decide to take five classes a semester?</p>
<p>"I, uh, guess Thanksgiving in the middle isn't helping, huh?"</p>
<p>Thanksgiving. Fuck. Other than it being a navigational marker around which all his professors are assigning due dates, Bucky hasn't thought about his <i>plans</i> for Thanksgiving in weeks. Not since Steve shyly asked if he would make dinner for them. </p>
<p>Some vowels slip out of Bucky's mouth, but he's not certain any of them are the precursors to words. The muscles in his arm tense, as if that's not a fucking sign for his stress. No way he can take the time to plan and cook a decent Thanksgiving meal (certainly not one he'd want to feed Steve), and by now Ma's already elbows deep in the menu and would murder Bucky if he didn't show. But Steve's still thinking about Thanksgiving with Bucky, so maybe it's not entirely awkward when he asks, "Come home with me?"</p>
<p>Steve's eyebrows jerk up. "What?"</p>
<p>Blurted inelegance is not how he wanted to casually ask his roommate-maybe-more to join his family for Thanksgiving, and yet, that's what tripped out of his mouth. "Home. My parents are a couple hours away. We could go. My sister offered to drive. If, if you want to come."</p>
<p>The surprise rounding Steve's face quickly turns inward, transforming into an expression Bucky can't quite parse. "You sure they won't mind?"</p>
<p>Bucky barks a laugh. "You kidding? Compliment Ma's cooking half as much as you compliment mine and she'll want to adopt you."</p>
<p>Steve sits back in his chair, his laugh warming the space between them. "If you're sure I'd be welcome, yeah. Yeah, that sounds like fun."</p>
<p>"Oh, you say that now."</p>
<p>Steve's laugh propels him out of the chair, and he collects their plates. "Why don't you grab a nap? You need to be out of here by one, right?"</p>
<p>Bucky freezes in the middle of pulling up his hair—<i>Steve knows his schedule</i>. The thought unwinds the remaining tension in Bucky's arm, discomfort unspooling like Elvish rope. "Yeah, one. You don't mind watching the time for me?"</p>
<p>Steve smiles at him from where he's washing dishes. "Go get some rest. Thanksgiving with your family will be a lot more awkward if you walk into traffic."</p>
<p>Bucky chuckles and stumbles his way to the bedroom. "Thanks, pal." He goes straight to the bed, face-planting on the sloppily straightened bedspread, and smiles when, a moment later, Steve comes behind him to turn off the overhead light.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Bucky takes a deep breath before sending the text. He waited a few days, carefully thinking through how to phrase it, how to make it casual and avoid triggering a freak out from his sister, but in the end, he decided the freak out was inevitable, so he went with simple and direct.<p>
  <i>Booking passage for two to the Barnes Family Thanksgiving Dinner.<br/>
Yes. You get to meet Steve.</i>
</p>
<p>He receives exclamation points, smiley faces, and hearts in every shade for the next two hours. And then an art mash up of "Single Ladies" lyrics with a picture of the One Ring. Becca is hilarious.</p>
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</div>Bucky lets Steve have the front seat when Becca picks them up, sliding over behind her so Steve can push his seat back as far as it will go.<p>"Tall boys," Becca comments, catching Bucky's eye in the rearview mirror. Her perfectly lined eyes widen, and he doesn't need to ask to know what she's thinking about Steve. He described Steve's nerdiness, his study habits, his art, and completely skipped the part about him having a devastatingly hot beard and tweed-wrapped muscles. Maybe he should have warned her. </p>
<p>"Nice to meet you finally," she says, car idling while they settle. Bucky leans his backpack against his thigh—laptop, Nutrition notes, and chargers all tucked away in case there's time to burn. "Bucky's told me so much about you."</p>
<p>"Oh?" A faint blush makes it to Steve's cheeks while he buckles his seatbelt. "He's uh, mentioned you, too. Um, you're not a hobbit."</p>
<p>It's a good thing the car isn't moving yet because Becca and Bucky both burst out laughing. Of all the awkward things Steve could say, it's the one that proves everything Bucky's said about him.</p>
<p>"What? That is factually true," Steve protests with a laugh. That sets the Barnes siblings off again and Steve shoves Becca's shoulder and pokes a finger into Bucky's shin. "She's as bad as you are."</p>
<p>"You have no idea," Becca teases as she finally pulls into traffic. She catches Bucky's eye in the rearview mirror again and Bucky's sure Steve's got her approval.</p>
<p>The drive home isn't too bad, easy to make Thanksgiving a day trip, but it's still a long time to sit in the car and pray Becca doesn't say anything horribly embarrassing. (Despite the thousand embarrassing things Bucky's done in front of Steve, he doesn't need Becca's angle on That Time Bucky Spun Her So Fast on the Playground's Merry-Go-Round He Made Himself Sick.)</p>
<p>They talk about the menu to start, informing Steve of the best dishes and warning him away from the deep-fried brussels sprouts. "Not because they're bad," Becca explains. "It's just that if you want a ride back into the city, you boys are going to lay off the gassy foods."</p>
<p>"Half-serving," Bucky mouths when Steve turns around. The smile he gets in answer is blinding.</p>
<p>Warnings about their family circulate next—Ma makes most of the food, but the pies are all Dad's work, do not confuse this; Aunt Shirley will leave lipstick on your cheek ("Yours especially," Becca mutters); the Macy's Parade is sacrosanct and will be replayed during dessert; if Grandma Barnes tries to guess your shirt size, tell her one size up because you're getting a sweater for Christmas and she always makes them too small ("I might get a Christmas gift from your grandma?" Bucky and Steve both blush at that).</p>
<p>Becca asks Steve about his thesis, and he gives an actually brief overview of the topic instead of opening into a thirty-minute lecture.</p>
<p>"Buck told me you trade books back and forth." Steve's arm rests along the window, his other fist punched into his leg, elbow poking into the backseat area where Bucky can pinch it if a distraction is required. "I've been kind of at a loss since I finished my thesis. What book would you give to me?"</p>
<p>Becca groans, head knocking side to side. "Ask the easy questions, will you?" Steve starts to apologize and backpedal, but Becca trucks right over him. "No, no, it's a good question. You know I mostly read sci-fi, right?"</p>
<p>"Sci-fi?" Steve's profile shifts, smirk tugging the corners of his mouth when Bucky shrugs. Not Bucky's fault if Steve hasn't been paying attention to what's on the covers of the books he reads.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Becca shifts in her seat, eyes meeting Bucky's in the rearview mirror again. "What was that orc/elf sexy book you made me read?"</p>
<p>Bucky's face ignites like a match and he loses control of his tongue, stuttering anything to make Becca shut up about the book in which an elf fellates a hood ornament.</p>
<p>"A sexy book?" Steve asks, eyebrows arched in a tease, but face turning a delightful shade of pink. </p>
<p>"Oh." Becca's hand flicks toward Steve distractedly. "I'll send you the name if Buck won't fess up about it. It's in my GoodReads somewhere."</p>
<p>Bucky squeezes his eyes shut because there's no way she's going to forget—probably Steve won't forget either; Becca mentioned elves, after all. "Don Allmon," Bucky finally offers. "<i>The Glamour Thieves</i>. And I do not recommend it <i>for Steve</i>."</p>
<p>"Well, now I have to read it."</p>
<p>Bucky covers his face, wondering what shade his skin must be to feel that hot. "You're terrible. Both of you. Why must I suffer?"</p>
<p>After the howls of laughter die down and Bucky's face is merely warm instead of blazing, Becca turns to Steve, a smile in her voice. "You should really ask Bucky for a recommendation. A real one. I've liked everything he's ever given me to read." She holds the sincerity a second before she breaks, saying around her laugh, "Even the orc/elf book!"</p>
<p>Steve lets loose one of his full-bodied laughs and if Bucky gets teased about this the rest of the day, it's worth it when Steve reaches behind him to squeeze Bucky's knee.</p>
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</div>Steve gets the celebrity treatment when they arrive, Dad greeting him with a bottle of beer and Ma depositing a crab puff in his empty hand.<p>"Where's my crab puff?" Bucky jokingly asks, and Ma shoves the platter at him and enlists him to take it around the room to make sure everyone's gotten one.</p>
<p>Becca shakes her head at him, and yeah, he should've known better than to say something like that.</p>
<p>When he empties the platter and returns to Steve, Steve's wearing Aunt Shirley's lipstick like a badge of honor. He must have leaned down so she could smack him so perfectly on the apple of his cheek.</p>
<p>"You're a good sport," Bucky says as he smears the stain from Steve's face. He has to use a little spit to remove it all, but Steve just whispers, "You get it?" which cues Bucky to take a few unnecessary, lingering swipes. Steve smiles through the attention, the light in his eye catching in Bucky's heart.</p>
<p>Bucky circulates the room again, this time with Steve, and it's an exhaustive review of the past few months from all sides. He talks about classes, Steve's thesis, and moving back to his old neighborhood, taking care to describe some of the restaurants Steve's discovered. Steve somehow isn't bored listening to Bucky's uncle talk about… actually, Bucky isn't entirely sure what he's talking about because he tuned out in the middle, awareness constricting to the point where Steve's soft sweater brushed Bucky's elbow. </p>
<p>Dinner's still an hour away, so Bucky tugs Steve's sleeve and jogs his head to the stairs. He could use a breather, and he figures Steve might like one, too.</p>
<p>The stairway contains a gallery of family photos, which draws Steve's attention, but he keeps pace with Bucky, passing family portraits and candid photos of tiny Bucky and Becca dripping in swimming suits, their three years age difference more noticeable after his growth spurt at thirteen. </p>
<p>Second door down, he lets it swing wide. Ma keeps his bedroom neat, just how Bucky left it, a red plaid bedspread, armchair for reading, and a floor-to-ceiling wall of bookcases. He's got a sizable book collection at the apartment, but the rest of them still live here, and if Steve's ever going to figure out Bucky's a fantasy nerd, this is the place. But instead, Steve's drawn to the floating shelf and the array of diving trophies Ma must have unboxed after he moved out this last time. </p>
<p>Steve traces a finger along the shelf, stopping to read each plaque. Bucky always placed well, even when he was inexperienced, so the collection tends to impress. Maybe even Bucky's starting to be a little impressed by it again. </p>
<p>"When did you get all these?"</p>
<p>"Before this." Bucky shrugs his left arm. "This ended that."</p>
<p>"You were good." Steve turns to Bucky, shoves his hands in his pockets, and tilts his head back toward the shelf. "I mean, I assume from the trophies and medals and stuff." </p>
<p>"Yeah. I, uh, I was training for the Olympics." He smooths a hand across the bed and sits at the end, the trophies in front of him. When he moved out, his favorite books had been on the shelf, but he'd taken most of them with him. Ma must have shelved the rest to make room for The Shrine. It looks nice all set out like this, even if it sort of belongs to a different Bucky.</p>
<p>Steve joins him on the bed, mirroring his position, hands behind him. "That's why you didn't go to college earlier."</p>
<p>Bucky shrugs. "That and the surgeries. Rehab. A lot of rehab. Therapy." He turns his head, studying Steve's profile. Like all the other times, Steve's quiet acceptance pulls more words from Bucky's lips. "My whole future was gone. Mostly because I'd been a stupid asshole and dove off a bridge."</p>
<p>"You what?!"</p>
<p>Bucky closes one eye, remembering the doctored version he'd told Steve months ago, and holds up his hand. Steve's worry is rather late, but still intense. "I said what I said. And it's the truth. I didn't fall. It was… on purpose." He bites his lip, not sure how much to say. "We were out in a big group. Planning to go skinny dipping in this river by the training facility. I was trying to impress—fuck, I don't know, anyone who was there? It was dumb. I was dumb. I was angry about it for a long time after."</p>
<p>The shock and concern melts from Steve's face as he listens. Bucky swallows when Steve still hasn't said anything, but then Steve nods deeply. "I bet it was hard to get over."</p>
<p>Bucky starts to make a joke, to say <i>who says I'm over it</i>, but Steve tilts his chin up, the light reflecting every golden strand in Steve's dark blond hair. He's gorgeous in a way that makes Bucky feel lucky just to sit beside him.</p>
<p>"But you're okay now?" Steve asks, an echo of the question he asked the first time Bucky half-confessed about his arm. "I mean—" His blue eyes are huge behind his glasses, expression soft and open. "—your arm and everything, all the therapy? Everything's okay?"</p>
<p>Bucky inhales deeply, holding his breath a moment. He can just say <i>yes</i>. It's not untrue, even if it's not the whole truth, and maybe Steve will keep looking at Bucky like this if Bucky can just <i>be okay</i>. </p>
<p>Or maybe Bucky can keep telling the truth and trust that Steve isn't going to stop liking him because of a mistake he made nine years ago.</p>
<p>"You know I still have some problems."</p>
<p>Steve's smile is faint, but it's there, private and pleased, like he understands what admitting that costs Bucky. Like he understands how much Bucky is letting him in. "Is the insomnia related to all that?"</p>
<p>Bucky hangs his head, half-laughing at himself. "Sort of?" He drags a hand through his hair and then twists it into a ponytail and drapes it over one shoulder. "I mean, I probably always had anxiety, but the injury made it more noticeable. Gave it something to focus on, I guess."</p>
<p>Steve reaches over and tugs on the tail of Bucky's hair. "You kind of seem better. Haven't been joining me for midnight reading sessions as often."</p>
<p>"You can thank Natasha."</p>
<p>"Maybe I will."</p>
<p>Steve looks up at the trophies again, that small smile at home on his face, Steve at home in Bucky's old bedroom. Bucky felt trapped when he moved back in, shifting from the city back to the suburbs. The light blue walls and bookcase stocked with stuffed animals and hand-painted dragon minis had felt like reminders of how he'd regressed. Those first few years, shuffling between surgeries and rehab, had been the worst. He had less and less in common with his diving friends, was an absolutely maudlin hook-up, and had already pushed Becca away. After he tried and failed to get back to a life, before committing to therapy, Ma had been the only person who could put up with him.</p>
<p>He's glad Steve didn't know him then. He doesn't want to think about how hard he would have pushed him away. He was afraid to let people see him because they might notice the foreign, ugly thing inside his body wasn't just made out of metal.</p>
<p>Steve knocks his shoulder into Bucky's, a gentle, lingering bump that can't be classified as a shove. "For the record: I won't be impressed if you dive off a bridge."</p>
<p>Bucky laughs and then presses his weight back against Steve. "Noted." While he wants to stay, pressed close to Steve and baring his soul, it's Thanksgiving. He pats Steve's knee. "We should probably head down. Ma usually gets frantic right before everything heads to the table and she'll be glad for the extra hands."</p>
<p>"Oh no." Steve cringes and even that looks cute on his conventionally handsome face. "Have you warned her about my cooking skills?"</p>
<p>"She knows nothing about lembas."</p>
<p>Steve leans back and laughs, and if they weren't about to go back down to Bucky's whole family, he would have kissed him.</p>
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</div>Steve sits across from Bucky during dinner with Aunt Shirley's arm hooked around his elbow. Twice she yanks his arm hard enough that he misses his mouth, which may have been an attempt to get him out of that light blue sweater on the pretext of soaking it in club soda. Bucky knows your moves, Aunt Shirley.<p>"The patience of Elrond," Bucky says when Shirley's distracted by one of Dad's fish stories.</p>
<p>"Is he all that patient?" Steve asks, and Bucky's not sure if he's being sarcastic or actually pondering it.</p>
<p>After dinner, Bucky and Becca are guilted into dish duty since they hadn't even brought a store-bought dessert. ("Ma, we know Dad makes enough pies to feed the block and you would <i>disown</i> us if we didn't hand whip the cream." That response from Becca means Ma helps identify containers for the leftovers, but then her children are abandoned to their own devices in her rearranged kitchen.) Steve escapes the ignominy—partly because he's a guest, but mostly because Shirley wants his help getting Monopoly off the top shelf in the game closet. The stretch pulls up the hem of Steve's sweater and Bucky does not blame Shirley for taking in the view. Sculpted like the Argonath. Welcome to Gondor. Bucky salutes the White City. </p>
<p>A snapped dish towel interrupts Bucky's observation right when Steve asks, "Is this <i>Lord of the Rings</i> Monopoly?"</p>
<p>Becca points to the dishes piled in the sink. "I'm not ruining my manicure for this. You can stare at Steve any time you want." </p>
<p>Bucky snorts and starts running the water. "Ha. Not quite."</p>
<p>"Are you kidding?" Becca leans against the counter, towel caught in her crossed arms, orange sweater bunched at her elbows. "He practically <i>purrs</i> when you go all inarticulate."</p>
<p>"I do not get—" But Bucky's stuttering through his protest, which sets Becca to poking his side, so he rolls his eyes and decides there's no point in denying any of it. "I am also an uncoordinated idiot around him. You should see him in shorts."</p>
<p>"I can imagine."</p>
<p>He elbows her as he moves a rinsed dish to the drying rack. "Stop mentally undressing my roommate."</p>
<p>"It's only inappropriate if you're dating him." </p>
<p>She is definitely quoting something he said during his self-centered asshole phase. Which is obnoxious except for the fact that he can respond, "Well…."</p>
<p>She squeaks and nearly drops a china gravy boat that has been in the family longer than Grandma Barnes.</p>
<p>"Yikes. Calm down. Nothing to report yet, Captain Cupid. But—" Bucky uses his arm to push the hair from his face, feeling the blush coming back to his cheeks. "We had a moment. A few, I guess. Technically." Just now in his room, when Steve read to him the week before, after Steve's defense, Halloween. And each time closer and more conclusive. "Soon," he promises. "I think."</p>
<p>"So you know? You know he likes you? I don't have to convince you?"</p>
<p>Bucky bites his smile, failing to contain it. "Yeah."</p>
<p>Becca tilts her head on to Bucky's shoulder, reaching around to squeeze his waist. She holds him like that long enough that he tilts his head to rest against her poofy curls, still absently swishing a sponge over dinner forks. He will never stop being grateful to have his little sister in his life. She could have accepted his apology and ignored him, but here she is, teasing Bucky's crush with elf on orc erotica and encouraging Bucky that he's worthy of someone like Steve. Of all the things he irrevocably fucked up, he's glad he didn't ruin this.</p>
<p>She pinches his side, getting him to let out a manly eep. "You're so dumb, and I love you," she says.</p>
<p>He's not dignifying that with a response.</p>
<p>They finish washing and drying the china and silver, making neat stacks they're sure to have to return to the china cabinet after dessert. Steve looks a little red in the face when he leans into the passthrough. (His shirt bunches at the collar, revealing a peek of skin that sends Bucky's imagination into fits).</p>
<p>"You almost done in here? Shirley's killing me at Monopoly and she wouldn't let me be Gandalf."</p>
<p>Bucky swallows most of his laugh while he hangs up the towel. "Did you let her get Barad-dûr? She always goes for it and Osgiliath because she thinks the names are funny."</p>
<p>"Whee, I got Bree," Becca quotes, another of Shirley's famous Monopoly sayings. It's a wonder she never split a side over purchasing Farmer Maggot's.</p>
<p>"Oh! She hasn't gotten Osgiliath yet." Steve looks over his shoulder, a wicked glint visible in the corner of his eye. </p>
<p>Bucky leans his elbows on the counter, ducking beneath the hanging fern to meet Steve under the cabinet. "Attack her morale. Take Osgiliath." </p>
<p>Steve turns back to Bucky, the shine in his eyes as sharp as the shards of Narsil. "Here the hammer stroke will fall hardest."</p>
<p>Bucky's nose crinkles at the quote and he drops his head between his shoulders, shaking with his laugh until Steve's fingers glance across Bucky's hand. Steve's smile is magnificent, beautiful, and uncertain just at the corners. He shrugs one shoulder. "Ride out with me?"</p>
<p>The back of Bucky's hand tingles in the wake of Steve's fingers. His heartbeat feels like the thundering hooves of the Rohirrim riding across the Westfold. His voice doesn't feel entirely steady when he says, "You're mixing books now."</p>
<p>Steve's tongue flashes when he wets his lips. "But you know what I mean."</p>
<p>For once Bucky thinks <i>Steve</i> knows, that he's finally, after all these months, put it together that Bucky knows <i>exactly</i> what he means.</p>
<p>He straightens up (without hitting his head on the fern) and knocks on the countertop. He gives Steve a curling grin, letting his eyes flick over his roommate, lingering on that delightful gap at his throat. "Forth Eorlingas."</p>
<p>He follows Steve's laugh to where they have the board set up, glancing up long enough to get a double thumbs up from Becca before taking the open seat on the couch next to Steve. Shirley gets Osgiliath and most of Rohan, strategically scattering strongholds across Middle Earth, but considering that Steve's leg presses against Bucky's the rest of the evening, even when they go bankrupt, Bucky's pretty sure they won.</p>
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</div>On the ride back, Bucky drifts on the edge of sleep, watching headlights play across Steve's features. He tries not to wonder about what <i>will</i> happen, and instead remembers the feel of Steve's fingers on his hand and when Steve leaned forward to tug the end of Bucky's ponytail. Becca puts some music on low, and no one talks for a while.<p>Then Steve mentions how amazing the brussels sprouts were and Becca cracks all the windows as a preventative measure. </p>
<p>The freezing air wakes them, and by the time they get back to the city, they've recapped the entire Monopoly campaign and every dish that emerged from the kitchen.</p>
<p>"I can't believe how many leftovers your ma sent home with us." Three grocery bags stuffed with take-out containers sit on the backseat with Bucky. Becca's bag is half-filled with pie, but Bucky and Steve have another few Thanksgiving dinners between them. Which is just as well because Bucky seriously needs to hit the books. He didn't even look at his Nutrition notes.</p>
<p>When Becca pulls up to their building, he hugs his sister from behind her seat, planting a kiss on her cheek. Steve also kisses her cheek, and thanks her profusely for the ride. </p>
<p>"Just promise the next time Bucky shows up for brunch, he's bringing you with him."</p>
<p>Bucky looks up at his name, so he catches the shy smile Steve shoots his way. "Yeah, not letting him head off without me."</p>
<p>Bucky does not swoon because swooning would make it harder to get out of the car and get up the stairs to their apartment. </p>
<p>Unloading groceries is something of a routine. Even when Bucky's the one doing the shopping, Steve rouses to help, taking charge of unloading while Bucky arranges things to his liking. Tonight, Steve is more active, getting in the way enough that Bucky throws a hip-check when Steve lingers too long in front of the fridge.</p>
<p>Steve gasps, a fake affront teased with a smile. Bucky's prepared for a playful bump or a pinch, but Steve eyes him and then reaches behind Bucky to grab another container, his arm brushing Bucky's hair across his shoulders. Bucky shivers, and not because he's standing in front of the open refrigerator. </p>
<p>They unload the remaining leftovers without incident, and when Bucky finishes folding down the grocery bags, stacking them in the pantry with other bags to reuse, Steve's sitting on the edge of his bed, shoes and jacket removed. The pale blue sweater he picked for dinner sets off his eyes, making them look brighter and lighter and perfect.</p>
<p><i>How?</i> is the only coherent thought left in Bucky's head.</p>
<p>"Hey." Steve holds out a hand to Bucky, making it clear what he wants, and Bucky is so fucking relieved to have a direction.</p>
<p>He steps around the coffee table, which still supports a ridiculous number of books even though Steve turned in the final draft of his thesis a few days ago, and sits next to Steve on the bed. Considering they sat for two hours pressed against each other on the couch, he should feel used to it, but every touch is a new wonder, mostly that he's allowed to do it.</p>
<p>He toes off his shoes, nudging them under the coffee table. "You had a good time today?"</p>
<p>Steve's smile widens. "I had a great time." The back of his hand knocks against Bucky's. "Got to spend the day with one of my favorite people."</p>
<p>"I know. My ma is awesome."</p>
<p>Steve laughs, face crinkling, and Bucky uses the distraction to take Steve's hand. Their fingers lace together perfectly, the feeling arcing up Bucky's arm, tingles that have nothing to do with pain.</p>
<p>"So." Steve's voice is soft, but there's no uncertainty in his question, "This is really a thing, huh?"</p>
<p>Bucky tilts his head, hair sliding over his shoulder. "This has been a thing for a while. Hasn't it?" He swallows, suddenly nervous that he read the signs wrong, misinterpreted Steve's familiar touches.</p>
<p>"For me? Jeez, you know how long." Steve's face and neck flushes, the color dipping under his collar, and as tempting as it is to find out how far that blush extends, Bucky's caught on a little detail.</p>
<p>"I do?"</p>
<p>"Yeah." If anything, Steve's blush gets darker. "My poems?"</p>
<p>"Your—?" And all at once the meaning of Steve's poems slam into Bucky's awareness. Raven hair, sculpted shoulders, all the references to night, which is when they spent most of their time together. "You wrote poems in Elvish about <i>me</i>?" His voice may have hit an interesting pitch in his surprise.</p>
<p>"You didn't know? But, but you translated—and actually, nice job, by the way, considering I had to improvise some of those words." </p>
<p>Bucky shrugs. "The intention was clear."</p>
<p>"Thanks. I wasn't really sure because—how did you not know those were about you?!"</p>
<p>Bucky loses it at the rapid shift in topic and tone, leaning heavily against Steve. His head drops to Steve's shoulder, and he smiles into his neck, giggles overcoming the thrill of being this close to Steve. "Because I'm an idiot?" he finally says through his laugh. </p>
<p>Steve's shaking with laughter too, a pleasant rumble against Bucky's cheek and side, but after a moment, their laughter peters out and Steve squeezes Bucky's hand. Bucky squeezes back, but he leaves his head right where it is on Steve's shoulder, taking advantage of his position and impulsively pressing a kiss to Steve's neck. He feels the low noise Steve makes, an encouraging hum, and kisses again, this time touching his tongue to Steve's skin.</p>
<p>"Bucky," Steve whispers, free hand carding into Bucky's hair and making his scalp croon its pleasure. </p>
<p>He kisses his way up Steve's throat, sucking at his jaw to hide a mark at the edge of his beard, Steve's fingers tightening in Bucky's hair. He's not quite up to knocking Steve back on the bed—that might be crossing a line they shouldn't cross until after a conversation—but he brings his other hand up to cup Steve's cheek and discovers just how very soft his beard is.</p>
<p>"Bucky," Steve says again while Bucky's kisses travel toward his lips.</p>
<p>Bucky presses his face to Steve's, noses aligned against each other, holding for a moment while they catch their breath. "Yeah?" </p>
<p>A breathy chuckle caresses Bucky's lips. "<i>Míra lá i anarórë</i>."</p>
<p>Bucky pulls back far enough to look Steve in the eye, grinning at the opening line from Steve's poem. It's beautiful and funny all at once, and exactly the reason Bucky loves him. "<i>Á miqu</i>," he says, and when recognition sparks Steve's eyes, Steve follows the request and kisses him. It <i>is</i> more beautiful than sunrise.</p>
<p>They make-out in Steve's bed, rolling over books (which, turns out, is extremely uncomfortable), and eventually they fall asleep wrapped around each other. Admittedly it's not the best night's sleep Bucky's ever had, but he's never woken up feeling so happy.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a><br/>- Illustration by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a> with lettering by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- When I went looking for what "Single Ladies"/One Ring mash-up Becca might have sent Bucky, I found <a href="https://aminoapps.com/c/lotr/page/blog/single-ladies/oWfd_u67QbX7pxYR3YnJLdPD6G4Mb">this</a>. I felt like all of you should know this is probably what she sent him.</p>
<p>- The <i>Lord of the Rings</i> Monopoly Bucky owns is the 2003 Trilogy Edition. Many thanks to <a href="https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/8041/monopoly-lord-rings-trilogy-edition">BoardGameGeek.com</a> for hosting pictures so I could confirm which playing pieces and locations appear in the game.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Deep Untroubled Sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
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A DEEP UNTROUBLED SLEEP<br/>
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</div>Sleeping in the same bed can't become a habit (yet). Bucky's still participating in Natasha's sleep study, and nocturnal adventures with Steve don't leave much time for actual sleep, but Bucky can't say he hates waking up next to Steve in increasingly fewer clothes. Daylight's already streaming in around the shade, so Bucky's careful when he extracts his phone from the windowsill. He snaps his hair into a messy bun, stretching his arm across Steve to pull him into a hug and kiss his bare shoulder.<p>Steve makes a noise that indicates he's alive, not awake, so Bucky shimmies down the bed, intending to escape over Steve's legs. (He tried going out the foot yesterday and tripped over his own weight rack. Not the most pleasant morning experience.)</p>
<p>"Wha'cha doing down there?" Steve croaks. He curls around Bucky's abandoned pillow, only one eye cracked open.</p>
<p>Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to Steve's ribs, which are currently level with his face. "Going to class."</p>
<p>"Is that what they're calling it these days?"</p>
<p>Bucky pinches Steve's nipple and almost gets a knee to the stomach when Steve flinches. Steve's quick enough to catch Bucky's hands when he goes for a secondary attack, twining their fingers together, like Bucky's going to try to pull away.</p>
<p>"Hey. <i>Hey</i>." Steve's voice is still a sleepy rumble, even though his eyes are bright and alert. "Be nice to your boyfriend. It's like, daybreak."</p>
<p>Bucky kisses the tips of Steve's fingers. "It's like seven-thirty. I have class at nine. And I should probably start sleeping in my own bed if you don't want to wake up this early." </p>
<p>Steve pouts and Bucky can't help himself, crawling back up Steve to kiss that puffed lip. The chaste kiss quickly deepens when Steve grabs him and rolls, wrapping Bucky in the blankets again and pressing him into the mattress. It's been like this all break—Bucky's studies interrupted by Steve's enormous body wrapping around him while they lose their breath kissing and fooling around. Not that he's complaining, Steve's bulk pinning him is the bright spot of any day, but his first final is Friday and he still has another paper to finish.</p>
<p>He pushes Steve's shoulders, muttering against his lips, "I have class."</p>
<p>Steve sighs. Pouts. Kisses Bucky again. "How much time do you have?"</p>
<p>"Not enough, since I need to shower."</p>
<p>He arches an eyebrow in a silent question, and Bucky laughs, pushing Steve off him. "Then I'd really be late. Exam review starts today."</p>
<p>Steve dramatically flops to his back, arms sprawled to either side. "Then leave me. Wake me up at an ungodly hour, and then abandon me. As treacherous as Isildur's Bane."</p>
<p>Bucky snorts, stopping in his crawl across Steve, and drops a kiss on his nose. "You are so fucking ridiculous." Steve's fingers tangle in Bucky's hair long enough for another kiss, but then he lets him go. Uncertain legs carry Bucky into the shower and it's only when he's under the water that he lets himself think about how light his heart is.</p>
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</div>In the first week of dating Steve Rogers, Bucky starts a new list.<ul>(1) Steve Rogers is the ultimate study aide. Despite not knowing the material, he constructs excellent questions from Bucky's textbook and notes, quizzing Bucky after dinner every evening. He even gives Bucky practice essay questions which he grades while Bucky's at class. If his grades are given in <i>Lord of the Rings</i> doodles, that's just another reason why Steve is an excellent study partner.

<p>(1a) For some reason, on the Steven G. Rogers Fellowship Grading Scale, a Samwise is below a Gimli. This makes absolutely no sense as Sam is a <i>ring bearer</i> and the only reason Frodo even <i>makes it</i> to Mount Doom. The whole story fails without Sam. How can he possibly rank <i>Sam</i> below <i>Gimli</i>?</p>

<p>… Steve says his grading scale is about their depth of knowledge and Gimli knows more languages and ranges of cultural customs than Sam. <i>Fine</i>.</p>

<p>(2) Steve Rogers actually knows his Elvish pronunciation is shit. Bucky spends an hour trying to teach Steve how to better shape his tongue around the Elvish vowels. The lesson is interrupted by three make-out sessions, after which Bucky proclaims there's nothing wrong with Steve's tongue. Steve further proves that by applying his tongue elsewhere.</p>

<p>Seriously. There is nothing wrong with Steve's tongue.</p>

<p>(3) Steve Rogers owns Legolas socks. They are objectively hideous with Legolas's face and torso extending up the calf, but when he shows them off to Bucky, wearing nothing but the socks, Bucky has a reaction he will not explain or admit to having. Steve seems to enjoy the reaction; that's all that matters.</p>

<p>(4) Steve Rogers sketches his boyfriend when his boyfriend isn't paying attention. Steve's sketchbook, which was previously dedicated to <i>Lord of the Rings</i>, has a growing collection of Buckys working out, cooking, studying, and sleeping. </p>

<p>Bucky finds out about them because Steve shoves the sketchbook at Bucky Thursday afternoon, crowing about the drawing he finished: Bucky Barnes, Northern Ranger. Steve accentuated Bucky's cheekbones, giving him a smoldering look under the tousled hair dripping into his face. </p>

<p>(4a) Steve Rogers also has a thing for Aragorn. Bucky sees this working in his favor.</p>

<p>(5) Steve Rogers knows every word to Leonard Nimoy's "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins." He has no knowledge of the Brobdingnagian Bards or Blind Guardian's <i>Nightfall in Middle Earth</i> album, and is only vaguely aware of Led Zeppelin's obsession with <i>Lord of the Rings</i>, but Steve has every word of Spock singing about Bilbo Baggins ingrained in his heart.</p>

<p>He says it's because his mom is a Trekker. A likely story.</p>

<p>(6) Steve Rogers can cook breakfast foods. He surprises Bucky with his pancake skills the morning of Bucky's first final. Warm syrup, bacon, and a mason jar of fresh flowers sit at the breakfast bar with a calligraphed sign that reads, <i>Mára valto</i>. </p>

<p>Steve sheepishly confesses after the first bite that he had to call his mom for help. "It's been a long time since I made breakfast for someone."</p>

<p>Bucky isn't sure how to process the gesture, but he does know how to eat three pancakes and five pieces of bacon. He has enough time to pull Steve into the shower with him and thank him a different way.</p>

<p>He takes his good luck card with him to the exam. It might not bring him luck, but knowing it's tucked in his bag keeps his anxiety to a minimum.</p>

<p>(7) Steve Rogers is easy to fall in love with, pretty much every day, but they've only been dating a week, so Bucky's not telling him that.</p>
</ul>
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</div>It's cruel that the last weekend of the sleep study is in the middle of finals, but it also means, during the time Bucky most needs to focus, Bucky is away from the distraction that is Steve Rogers's naked body. No peeks between chapters at Steve's biceps curled to bring a book to his face. No inconveniences from pert nipples peaking mounded pectorals. No unkempt hair tousled from when Bucky last fisted it. No tongue poking out to wet still swollen lips. No sheet sweeping low over his waist providing a veneer of modesty while perfectly mapping the lines of his hips. No hand sliding under that sheet to tease Bucky into staring just a little longer. Yes, absolutely no distractions surrounded by the utilitarian furniture and plain white walls of Natasha's sleep study. Such textbooks. Much focus.<p>Bucky repeats this to himself several times Saturday morning before utterly caving and begging Steve to meet him for lunch.</p>
<p>"Aw, you miss me?" Steve's voice over the phone inexplicably makes Bucky's toes curl. They're going to have to talk on the phone more if only to defuse Bucky's physical reaction to the timbre of Steve's voice.</p>
<p>"Yes, jerk," he says, feeling too much like Samwise pining for Rosie Cotton. "Meet me at the Union for lunch. I'll probably have Natasha with me."</p>
<p>"I get to meet Natasha?"</p>
<p>He barely has time to fear what Natasha might possibly say to Steve before Natasha pokes her head in the door. "Did I hear my name?"</p>
<p>"No," Bucky says to her before realizing Steve might get the wrong idea. "I mean, yes. To you, sweet—" The word shrivels in his mouth when Natasha's eyes widen and her grin turns manic and devilish. He rolls his eyes and turns away, speaking into the phone, "In an hour? Please?"</p>
<p>Steve's voice dances with a laugh. "Just need to get dressed." That image does not help the toe-curling situation. "Can't wait to see you."</p>
<p>Natasha at least waits until Bucky slides the phone into his back pocket. "You and Steve, huh?"</p>
<p>The blush that stains his cheeks intensifies under Natasha's smugness. She bobs her head, hair sliding back from her face. "That makes sense, yeah. You were moaning his name all night."</p>
<p>In an unadorned room, a word like "<i>what</i>?!" can really echo.</p>
<p>"Kidding," Natasha says quickly and with a smile so dry Bucky can't tell if it's the truth. </p>
<p>They meet Steve an hour later, Natasha with a striped hoodie slouching off her shoulder and Bucky with his hands shoved into his pockets so he doesn't attempt to maul Steve on sight. The soft lilac sweater vest under his Saturday tweed stretches over his muscles, and Bucky almost wants to be angry that the look turns him on so much.</p>
<p>Steve shakes Natasha's hand first and then greets Bucky with a chaste kiss, their first one in public. His fingers tickle the back of Bucky's neck, where the ends of his hair are pulled into a bun. Bucky feels the trail of his fingers long after Steve's pulled his hand away. </p>
<p>"Before I forget," Steve says, fumbling to adjust his glasses. "Thanks for helping Bucky." Bucky laughs; he can't believe Steve remembered. "He's sleeping so much better these days."</p>
<p>"Sure that's not because of you?" Her tone is light and casual, but her eyes sweep the length of Steve's body, assessment punctuated with an arched eyebrow and knowing smile. The blush on Steve's cheeks is so delicious, Bucky can't even be annoyed at what she's insinuating about their sex life. </p>
<p>"Technically, I was sleeping through the night before we got together." Bucky takes Steve's hand and squeezes. "But Steve's making it harder to follow all the steps of my sleep hygiene."</p>
<p>Nat tsks and flops her hands by her sides. "My whole experiment has been compromised."</p>
<p>Bucky laughs, prepared for Natasha's sarcasm, but Steve looks horrified until Bucky tugs him along to the noodle stand, calling over his shoulder, "Guess you'll need to repeat the experiment next semester. You ever think of doing a couples study?"</p>
<p>He glances back at Natasha and wishes he hadn't because the twinkle in her eye makes him think he's getting another semester of Natasha hard wiring him to a wall. </p>
<p>Steve keeps his arm around Bucky's waist while they order, and then insists on paying because it's his turn. (Bucky hasn't been tracking, but since he now has to budget for a boyfriend Christmas gift, he's not going to argue.) </p>
<p>Nat's waiting at a table near the windows where the midday sun warms Bucky enough to shed his jacket and tug up the sleeves of his navy Henley. Steve leaves his jacket on, making him look like a professor dining with his students. No matter how hot the look, Bucky is so buying him a jacket that doesn't have lapels.</p>
<p>"So," Steve says, breaking his chopsticks apart, "what do you do other than watch my boyfriend sleep?"</p>
<p>Natasha's low laughter rumbles across the table. She picks at her salad as she answers, "The same things you do, probably. Research, write papers, assassinate competition for grant money."</p>
<p>Bucky sputters, but Steve takes the comment in stride, scratching his beard. "I've never assassinated anyone for grant money. Is it hard?"</p>
<p>Natasha stabs a cherry tomato. "Not how I do it."</p>
<p>The weight of Steve's laugh hits Natasha's smirk, and her lips twitch open in a smile that looks more like the river Anduin than a knife in the dark. In all the lunches they've shared, Bucky's never seen such an unguarded expression on her face. Steve Rogers brings it out of everyone, apparently.</p>
<p>At the end of lunch, when Steve starts eyeing the leftovers in Bucky's noodle bowl and Bucky passes it over without a word, Nat rolls her eyes. "All right, you adorable couple. I get it." She makes the sign of the cross in the air. "I absolve you of your sleep problems."</p>
<p>"What?" Bucky winces; he says what in front of Natasha too often.</p>
<p>She shrugs, pulling her drooping hoodie over her shoulders. "You're done. I don't need another night of readings. Go be adorable in front of your other friends. Or alone, in case they've eaten recently."</p>
<p>His eyes flick to Steve who looks entirely too hopeful behind his horn-rim glasses. "But I have one more night." And fifty dollars yet to earn. Which, yeah, not a lot, but it would cover Boyfriend Christmas.</p>
<p>"Barnes." Natasha throws all the scattered trash on her plate and stands. "You've completed the study." She gives him a significant look, mollifying his fear of being short fifty dollars. "Now, with my utmost gratitude, get your shit out of my lab and go home with your boyfriend." She winks at Steve and walks away before either of them can respond. Nat dumps her tray and turns, back to the door, waggling her fingers at them and blowing a kiss before pushing the door open with her heel. </p>
<p>The afternoon sun catches in the glass, breaking Bucky's bewildered stare. "What just happened?"</p>
<p>Steve threads his arm around Bucky's shoulders, lips warm against his temple. "I think your friend noticed I missed you last night."</p>
<p>Bucky ducks his head, glad they're in the corner and the Union's lightly attended on weekends. "Natasha's not really my friend."</p>
<p>"A good enough friend to send you home early. Now that you have a reason to be there." Steve bites his lip, uncertainty nipping the corners of his eyes. "You can study at the library if the apartment's too distracting." He starts to pull his arm back, but Bucky grabs his hand.</p>
<p>"No. No, I mean, I like studying with you. You're very—" The distractions of Steve's body play across his thoughts, curling the edges of his lips. "—inspirational."</p>
<p>"Inspirational?" Steve teases. He shifts closer, the heat of him making Bucky forget they're in public. "You're making me sound like Gandalf."</p>
<p>"More like Haldir, I assure you."</p>
<p>Steve chuckles, chin ducking, and Bucky takes that moment to grab Steve's lapels and pull him in for a kiss. Huh, those lapels <i>are</i> good for something.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div>Graduations always last forever. Bucky tries not to focus on that when he and Mrs. Rogers run out of small talk about a half hour in. There's only so many times they can ask each other what discipline the different color capes and tassels represent. (Steve wears white, the tassel dangling on the opposite side of his face, leaving Bucky a clear view of his grin every time Steve looks up into the stands to find them.)<p>Bucky snaps another picture of Steve's profile, catching him looking up at the dais as one of the doctoral students receives their hood. </p>
<p>"Steve told me not to grill you." Mrs. Rogers' long fingers crease the edge of her graduation program.</p>
<p>"Oh?" Bucky refolds the motorcycle jacket in his lap, trying to ignore the nerves swimming up his arm. He should have gotten a longer debrief from Steve about his mom. He checked to make sure Steve was out and spending time with her son's live-in boyfriend wouldn't be a problem, but maybe he should have asked a few more questions, like, how terrifying is his mom's shovel talk?</p>
<p>"Yeah, he seems to think I come across as being overprotective." Her eyes roll and her shoulders shift in a gesture Bucky's seen across their living room a hundred times. Creases crinkle in the corners of her eyes, just like Steve's. Her features are fairer than his, but it's obvious Steve takes after her. "But of course, <i>now</i> I can't think of anything else to ask you."</p>
<p>Bucky laughs, and decides there's no reason to keep secrets. "I broke my arm when I was younger, and it stalled my life. But it helped me decide I want to be a physical therapist, which is why I'm in school now. And since that lead me to meet Steve? I'm beginning to think breaking my arm was an okay thing." He flips his phone in his right hand, surprised at himself and hoping that's not too much to tell his boyfriend's mom only three weeks after they made things official.</p>
<p>Her smile is warm and kind, but the twinkle in her eyes makes Bucky suspect she knows more than she's letting on. Like maybe he just confessed the exact thing she wasn't supposed to grill him about. "I promised I wouldn't push."</p>
<p>Bucky shrugs his bad shoulder, but it doesn't feel as tight as it did when they first sat down. "You didn't. Steve might not <i>believe</i> us, but I'll back you up."</p>
<p>She laughs, a lighter sound than Steve's resonating chortles, and then she flicks a wave beyond Bucky—Steve's gesturing to the empty row in front of him; he's almost up. "Steve's coming over for dinner on the twenty-sixth, our usual holiday tradition, but I'd love for you to come, too."</p>
<p>Christmas with Steve's mom? Guess there's no denying this is a Relationship. "Uh, thanks." He doesn't have time to think about it more because then Steve's row is standing and they're both fumbling open their phones to take a thousand pictures. Steve poses at the end of his row, thumbs up at the camera, and as he waits in line, Bucky captures him awkwardly blowing a kiss.</p>
<p>Bucky texts Peggy the best shot of Steve receiving his diploma and the one of him giving a thumbs up. <i>Look at our boy</i>, he sends.</p>
<p>A text comes back quickly: <i>I believe he's your boy.</i></p>
<p>Bucky laughs at his phone, blushing when Mrs. Rogers arches an eyebrow, and <i>yes</i>, he's seen that suspicious look on Steve's face before, too.</p>
<p>Peggy sends another text: <i>Sorry I couldn't make it. Give Steve my best and let me know when you're both available for dinner.</i></p>
<p>He sends back an affirmative, and then gestures with his phone to Mrs. Rogers. "Peggy. She couldn't make it, so I promised to send pictures." His phone buzzes again, but this time it's Steve.</p>
<p>Steve. Actually texting him. A greater surprise than elves at Helm's Deep.</p>
<p>
  <i>Look over here, punk. I want a selfie with you in the background.</i>
</p>
<p>Bucky can't deny that his face catches the biggest, dorkiest smile ever, but he directs his attention to Steve, watching his boyfriend's back as he lines up the shot. A few seconds later Steve sends him the photo: Steve in full regalia, mouth opened in a huge grin, with a tiny Bucky over his right shoulder wearing an equally goofy smile.</p>
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</div>They don't own a TV, but Becca does, so New Year's Eve finds Steve and Bucky snuggling under Grandma Barnes's crocheted lap throw for a <i>Lord of the Rings</i> marathon. Beer's in the fridge and pizza's on its way, scheduled to arrive about when they need to switch discs.<p>Steve reluctantly puts his socked feet on the coffee table after Bucky clears it. "You sure Becca doesn't mind us sacking out here for twelve hours?"</p>
<p>It's a little weird being in Becca's space without her. She left for skiing only a day before, but the apartment felt void without her brightly patterned dresses and overflowing curls greeting him at the door.</p>
<p>"As long as we water her plants and don't get stains on her couch, she said we're welcome to stay as long as we need to." Those are not the exact words she used, but Steve doesn't need the laundry list of locations Becca specified Bucky was not allowed to be naked. (She reluctantly agreed he could be naked in the bathroom—if necessary.) "Which is also why I brought sheets." </p>
<p>"I'm not sleeping in your sister's bed."</p>
<p>Bucky thumps the couch. "Folds out."</p>
<p>"Ah." Steve settles down after that, finally looking more relaxed in a pair of Bucky's sweats and the Straight Outta Hobbiton shirt Bucky got him for Christmas. He continues to unwind as the movie continues, swinging his feet back and forth, and speaking along with his favorite lines (half of which Bucky says right along with him). He struggles with the speed of some of the Elvish, his tongue sticking over the words, but looks right at Bucky when Arwen asks, "Do you remember when we first met?"</p>
<p>Bucky replies with Aragorn's line, "I thought I had strayed into a dream."</p>
<p>Steve cups Bucky's cheek, pulling him in for a kiss with so much feeling the movie falls away and it leaves Bucky lightheaded and breathless. All those times he daydreamed about them walking in Rivendell are nothing compared to this. Steve presses his forehead to Bucky's, sighing against him and making Bucky feel like they must be the only two people in existence.</p>
<p>"If I had an Evenstar," Steve whispers, "I'd be giving it to you right now."</p>
<p>Bucky's eyes flick open, catching the serenity on Steve's face, the absolute ease with which he said that, confessed his feelings, with a fucking <i>Lord of the Rings</i> reference. "God. You're ridiculous. I love you."</p>
<p>The words spill out of Bucky's mouth without him overthinking them, and Steve grins back at him and murmurs, "Love you, too" before laying Bucky out with another kiss, all concerns about being alone in Becca's apartment gone. They miss the entire Council of Elrond and almost miss the arrival of the pizza because Bucky's too busy learning that one does simply date his roommate, if that roommate is Steve.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Chapter header and scene break graphics, and illuminated Tengwar lettering of "mira lá i anarórë" text by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- Steve's <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Legolas-Gimli-Pair-Socks-Stores/dp/B086SJ2384">Legolas socks</a>.</p>
<p>- When deciding what Bucky would <i>actually</i> get Steve for Christmas I decided a “Straight Outta Hobbiton” t-shirt would be hilarious and probably exists. <a href="https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/263771-straight-outta-hobbiton">I was correct.</a></p>
<p>- Thanks for joining us on this ridiculous journey of <i>Lord of the Rings</i> nerds. You can find all of us on Twitter and send us LotR gifs and memes:<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/theemdash">theemdash</a><br/><a href="https://twitter.com/deisderium">deisderium</a><br/><a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>And yes, the story is over, but there’s still the appendix to go….</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Appendix A: Maps & Documents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>MAPS &amp; DOCUMENTS<br/><a href="#I">I Map of Elwen Omentië</a><br/><a href="#II">II Bucky's Class Schedule</a><br/><a href="#III">III The Steven G. Rogers Fellowship Grading Scale</a></p>
<p>Introduction by Natasha Romanoff</p>
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<b>A</b><br/>
MAPS &amp; DOCUMENTS<br/>
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</div>The documents contained herein are supplemental to the lives of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers pertaining to their fateful autumnal meeting. Some have been procured from their own records and others have been recreated according to the recollections of Bucky, Steve, and their friends. (Who are—actually, Bucky—your friends, even if you are incapable of readily accepting friendship. "Not really your friend," please, like I don't sign up all my friends for couples' sleep studies.)<p> </p>
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I<br/>
MAP OF ELWEN OMENTIË<br/>
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</div><i>Elwen Omentië</i> directly translates to "heart meeting," which is the name by which Bucky and Steve later refer to their no-really-only-one-bedroom apartment. But they still fondly remember how their apartment looked when Bucky first moved in and have mapped the ways in which their apartment encouraged their eventual relationship. (Gross, but also cute.)<p>The bed in the bedroom eventually transformed from <i>The Lonely Mountain</i> into <i>Mount Melindor</i>, <i>melindor</i> being "male lovers" in Quenya. Bucky and Steve think they're really clever with that name change. Certain friends of theirs do not want any further details about that name.</p>
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II<br/>
BUCKY'S CLASS SCHEDULE<br/>
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</div>Bucky's schedule his first semester of upper-level coursework. Why did he choose to take five classes? No one will ever really know. (He takes only four his second semester, so he has more time to spend with Steve. Aww.)<div class="center">
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III<br/>
THE STEVEN G. ROGERS FELLOWSHIP GRADING SCALE<br/>
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</div>This is not a joke. That nerd Steve Rogers wrote a rubric based on the members of the Fellowship of the Ring. Someone needs to take him out of academia and teach him there is life beyond Middle Earth.<br/> <br/> <br/><table>
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<h6>GANDALF</h6>
Response demonstrates mastery of the subject, with an ability to analyze and make connections to related topics, correlating practical application and theoretical knowledge. A thorough essay that answers every aspect of the question with a depth of knowledge that extends well beyond assessment bounds to become almost overwhelming. Response may be submitted quickly or well past the deadline, but always arrives precisely when it means to.</td>
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<h6>LEGOLAS</h6>
A competent understanding of the subject is reflected in the essay answer, with connections to related topics. Practical application of knowledge is demonstrated in the response, though may be lacking in analysis. Essay flies straight to the point, with flawless aim and accuracy, though the thesis may feel obvious and simply stated. </td>
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<td>
<h6>ARAGORN</h6>
Essay response ranges across related topics but ultimately unites all subjects to fulfill expectations. Thesis and supporting evidence demonstrate a firm position while primarily focusing on real-world concerns. Depth of knowledge is assumed, rather than explicitly illustrated in the response which may seem terse when dealing with more nuanced material. </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/4Q5aOgz.jpg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>GIMLI</h6>
Response is abrupt though objectively competent, showing a breadth of knowledge that meets expectations but lacks in-depth analysis or connections to wider contexts. Thesis may be based on personal experience rather than factual content. Mistakes will always seem deliberate.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/vEDE4WI.jpg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>FRODO</h6>
Response demonstrates a learned approach to the question, though lacks practical application or connections to real-world situations that are crucial to understanding the material. Analysis may become cursory or distracted through the journey, but reveals a deeper understanding that may transcend the response.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/E8GguQJ.jpg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>BOROMIR</h6>
The level of knowledge demonstrated in the response just meets expectations for depth and complexity. Thesis may rely on practical knowledge over theoretical knowledge stewarded by a weak foundation that crumbles under rigorous assessment.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/18WhQaF.jpg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>SAMWISE</h6>
A superficial understanding of theoretical knowledge is demonstrated by a lack of depth in the response. Connections to real-world contexts are misunderstood or incomplete. The prose generally conveys the writer's ideas and may contain great detail but fails to do justice to the subject. </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/E2r8iym.jpeg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>MERRY</h6>
Vague generalizations limit the quality of the response, showing little success in responding to the question with any depth. Material may be stretched by artificial means, making an off-topic response appear robust. There may even be an aside about mushrooms. </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/lp7cs8W.jpg"></a>
</td>
<td>
<h6>PIPPIN</h6>
Response demonstrates broad vocabulary related to the subject but does not indicate mastery of the terms or complete understanding of the meaning. Meandering or off-topic response may circle the question, demonstrating a clever writer and a person of intelligence who still succumbs to curiosity all too often. </td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Appendix header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a>  (The header is “himtanë,” or “attached,” in Tengwar, since there is no Elvish for “appendix.”)</p>
<p>- Map illustrated by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a> with lettering by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
<p>- Bucky’s class scheduled by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash">theemdash</a> (Excel, the only art she knows)<br/>Course numbers and names taken from an actual university course catalogue; instructors, buildings, and room numbers are all Marvel references.</p>
<p>- Steven G. Rogers Fellowship Grading Scale doodles by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium">deisderium</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Appendix B: Annals of Inspiration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ANNALS OF INSPIRATION<br/><a href="#I">I A Long-Expected Kiss</a><br/><a href="#II">II Elvish Poetry of the Thesis-Obsessed &amp; Lovelorn</a></p><p>Introduction by Peggy Carter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h3>
<br/>
<b>B</b><br/>
ANNALS OF INSPIRATION<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>I've been told that some things that should not have been forgotten have been lost. That history becomes legend, legend becomes myth. But those are things Steve says, and I'm fairly certain he picked it up from one of those books. (I do not have them on a mental rolodex like Steve and Bucky do.) But if history were accurately recollected, then the story recounted here is a more efficient version of events and may be a form of myth. Or certainly an inspiration for a longer tale.<p>Delightfully, Steve has also allowed for some of his poems about Bucky to be shared here—in English, however, who can read Elvish?</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center"><p>
    <a id="I" name="I"></a>
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<h3>
I<br/>
A LONG-EXPECTED KISS<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</h3></div><br/>"Where the fuck—?" Steve picks up his notebook, then all the other books scattered around him. His hand sweeps beneath him and Bucky stifles his smile because Steve's lost his pencil again in plain sight. "I just had it." He's muttering to himself, turning his notebook upside down and shaking it.<p>Bucky lowers his book, having lost his place entirely. "Something wrong?" Genuine concern is expressed in that question because James Buchanan Barnes is nothing but sincere.</p><p>"I can't find my pencil." He checks the fold of his shirt, pulling it tight against his chest, and before he reaches to do the same to his pants, Bucky levers himself out of the armchair, book dangling by its covers, and reaches across the bed to pluck the pencil from behind Steve's ear.</p><p>"This pencil?"</p><p>"What?" Steve practically goes cross-eyed (in the adorable way). "<i>Yes</i>. How did you—?" The answer must not really matter to him because he breaks off to look up at Bucky, his eyes huge and crystal-blue behind his horn-rimmed lenses. "Thanks."</p><p>It's their proximity. It's Steve's velvety lips carefully shaping his gratitude. It's the fact that they are literally surrounded by the smell of old paper and that leaning this close, Bucky finally notices the graphite streak on the side of Steve's nose.</p><p>And it's that Steve is studying Tolkien's languages and his pronunciation is shit and Bucky can't stop thinking it's adorable instead of annoying.</p><p>Those are the only reasons Bucky says in perfect Elvish, "<i>The moon sets in the river for you</i>."</p><p>Steve blinks and Bucky actually <i>hears</i> what he said, and the tone in which he said it. If he had any chance of making it through this semester without Steve realizing Bucky has the hots for him, it is gone.</p><p>Steve swallows audibly, his expression turning a little slack-jawed before sliding back to amazed as he whispers, "You speak Elvish?"</p><p>The surprise catches Bucky in a laugh so sudden he has to steady himself on the bed. Maybe clueless Steve has missed it again. God, one day Bucky will stop being so damn obvious.</p><p>"What do you <i>think</i> I'm reading over there?"</p><p>Steve's eyes slide to the armchair, which is as surrounded by books as Steve's bed, though Steve may have never noticed those are <i>Bucky's</i> books, not his. "Sports… things?"</p><p>Bucky laughs again, this time dropping his head forward so that loose strands of hair fall into his face. "Yes, sports things are often eight hundred pages and bound in leather." He grins at Steve again, shaking his head, and once again intones Steve's favorite language, "<i>Not as wise as he thinks, but more beautiful than sunrise</i>." Technically, the phrase he uses is “beautiful beyond the sunrise,” which is more poetic, but the comparison is what Bucky means.</p><p>Recognition sparks in Steve's eyes and for the second time in as many minutes, Bucky's stomach swoops. He pushes back, in case Steve plans to take a swing at him, but Steve brings his hand to his mouth, whispering, "Wait, wait."</p><p>Bucky stays, nerves coiling his stomach and then Steve's fingertips brush Bucky's sleeve. He meets Bucky's eyes, and says in halting, absolutely terribly pronounced Elvish, "<i>My heart is yours, if you'll have it</i>." He sucks in a breath and the question is all over his face—he means it. He's asking. </p><p>He is fucking asking Bucky out in Elvish, the little shit.</p><p>Bucky grabs Steve by his lapels and drags him into a kiss, pages crinkling between them and Steve's pencil rolling across the bedspread. The thought that Steve is the biggest nerd Bucky has ever known crosses his thoughts again and just makes him kiss Steve deeper, licking into his mouth and embracing the manic thought that Steve should stick to using his tongue for kissing instead of abusing Elvish.</p><p>"Stevie," Bucky says when they part. They're both breathing hard, faces still pressed close together. "<i>Teldavë</i>." It's the closest Elvish he can get to his meaning which is basically, <i>Took you long enough</i>.</p><p>Steve makes a noise that is not English or Elvish but Bucky understands it perfectly, crawling on to the bed and pulling Steve to him again. They lie down, shoving books out of the way, hands roaming freely, and as they kiss, a soft snap catches Bucky's attention. </p><p>"Pencil," he whispers against Steve's lips.</p><p>"<i>Á miqu</i>," Steve replies. Bucky kisses him again, as requested, and doesn't bother to correct his pronunciation.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>
<p></p><div class="center"><p>
    <a id="II" name="II"></a>
  </p>
<h3>
II<br/>
ELVISH POETRY OF THE THESIS-OBSESSED &amp; LOVELORN<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</h3></div><br/>More beautiful than sunrise,<br/>night settles in raven hair,<br/>flows softly over sculpted shoulders.<br/>Who needs day when night holds such wonders?<br/>     <i>-s.g.r.</i><br/> <br/> <br/>The moon would set in the river for you,<br/>drowning itself to not outshine your smile.<br/>But light-drenched fingers cage the orb,<br/>lifting it back to the heavens,<br/>reluctant to be the cause of darkness.<br/>Illumination sweeps skin I hunger to taste.<br/>Your laugh pierces my heart.<br/>     <i>-s.g.r.</i>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Appendix header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a>  (The header is “himtanë,” or “attached,” in Tengwar, since there is no Elvish for “appendix.”)</p><p>- "A Long-Expected Kiss" is the ficlet originally written for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopdetly/">sopdetly</a>'s prompt and which became the foundation for the longer fic.  The title is a play on "A Long-Expected Party," the title of the first chapter in <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Appendix C: Bibliography & References</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BIBLIOGRAPHY &amp; REFERENCES<br/><a href="#I">I Bibliography</a><br/><a href="#II">II Lord of the Rings References</a></p>
<p>Introduction by Becca Barnes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <h3>
<br/>
<b>C</b><br/>
BIBLIOGRAPHY &amp; REFERENCES<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>If you nerded along to the Becca and Bucky Book Exchange, or wondered just what the hell my brother's listening to (I also have questions), or if you were curious if all those chapter titles are <i>actually</i> quotes from <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, this is the appendix for you. The Bibliography (in MLA format, Steve would be amazed and vaguely impressed) contains links to every book, author, song, and band mentioned in the story, as well as links to Elvish research material Bucky used while <i>not</i> asking Steve about his poems. The References include the source for each chapter title and why the quote was selected. (Bucky isn't the only Barnes with massive LotR knowledge, but this goes beyond me.)<p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <a id="I" name="I"></a>
  </p>
  <h3>
I<br/>
BIBLIOGRAPHY<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>Allmon, Don. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40575770-the-glamour-thieves">
  <i>The Glamour Thieves</i>
</a>. Riptide Publishing, 2017.<p>Atwood, Margaret. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38447.The_Handmaid_s_Tale"><i>The Handmaid's Tale</i></a>. 1985, Anchor Books, 1998.</p>
<p>Blind Guardian. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0vBVAglUho"><i>Nightfall in Middle Earth</i></a>, Virgin Records, 1998.</p>
<p>Brooks, Terry. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15575.The_Sword_of_Shannara"><i>The Sword of Shannara</i></a>. 1977. Orbit, 1999.</p>
<p>Drayden, Nicky. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30129154-the-prey-of-gods"><i>The Prey of Gods</i></a>. Harper Voyager, 2017.</p>
<p>Erwin Beekveld. "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X-AF7fOzW0">They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard</a>." 2005.</p>
<p>Goldman, William. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21787.The_Princess_Bride"><i>The Princess Bride</i></a>. Harcourt, 1973.</p>
<p>Gray, Claudia. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31423196-defy-the-stars"><i>Defy the Stars</i></a>. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2017.</p>
<p>Hannah Moroz. "<a href="https://hannahmoroz.bandcamp.com/track/goodbye-hearth-and-hall">Goodbye, Hearth and Hall</a>." <i>Something for Everyone</i>, 2016.</p>
<p>Howard Shore. "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CL_3mlOPnGI">Concerning Hobbits</a>." <i>The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Reprise, 2001.</p>
<p>"Language Workbook - Quenya Workbook." <i>The Council of Elrond</i>, 2012, <a href="https://www.councilofelrond.com/readingcats/quenya-workbook/">councilofelrond.com/readingcats/quenya-workbook/</a>. Accessed Jul 2020.</p>
<p>Leonard "Aldaleon." <i>Parf Edhellen</i>. 2011, <a href="https://www.elfdict.com">elfdict.com</a>. Accessed Jul 2020.</p>
<p>Leonard Nimoy. "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BC35cQKHwzg">The Ballad of Biblo Baggins</a>." <i>Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy</i>, Dot Records, 1968.</p>
<p><a href="https://boardgamegeek.com/image/723637/monopoly-lord-rings-trilogy-edition"><i>Lord of the Rings Monopoly</i></a>. Parker Brothers, 2003.</p>
<p>Marc Gunn. "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFMe__bE7Qg">Don't Go Drinking With Hobbits</a>." <i>What Color Is Your Dragon? Folk Music with Delusions of Grandeur</i>, 2008.</p>
<p>Mary Clay Watt. <a href="https://tolkienaboutpod.podbean.com/"><i>That’s What I’m Tolkien About</i></a> (podcast). 2019.</p>
<p>McGuire, Seanan. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25526296-every-heart-a-doorway"><i>Every Heart a Doorway</i></a>. Tor.com, 2016.</p>
<p>Meyer, Stephanie. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41865.Twilight"><i>Twilight</i></a>. Little, Brown and Company, 2005.</p>
<p>Okorafor, Nnedi. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7507944-akata-witch"><i>Akata Witch</i></a>. Viking Children’s, 2011.</p>
<p>"Quenya - Tengwar Script." <i>Omniglot</i>. <a href="https://www.omniglot.com/conscripts/tengwar.htm">omniglot.com/conscripts/tengwar.htm.</a> Accessed Jul 2020.</p>
<p>Priest, Cherie. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30213129-brimstone"><i>Brimstone</i></a>. Ace Books, 2017.</p>
<p>Ramin Djawadi (composer). "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdQ3JDLlmPI">Game of Thrones Main Title Theme</a>." 2011.</p>
<p>Sanderson, Brandon. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7235533-the-way-of-kings"><i>The Way of Kings</i></a>. Tor Books, 2010.</p>
<p>Stantough. "<a href="https://youtu.be/wrrOJOSwK7s">Farewell, Farewell, Farewell</a>." 2020. (instrumental cover, *NSYNC. "Bye, Bye, Bye." <i>No Strings Attached</i>, Jive Records, 2000.)</p>
<p>Tolkien, J.R.R. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/423092.The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring"><i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i></a>. 1954. Houghton Mifflin, 1994.</p>
<p>---. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/437049.The_Hobbit_or_There_and_Back_Again"><i>The Hobbit</i></a>. 1937. Houghton Mifflin, 1994.</p>
<p>---. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49891.The_Return_of_the_King"><i>The Return of the King</i></a>. 1955. Houghton Mifflin, 1994.</p>
<p>---. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/259055.The_Silmarillion"><i>The Silmarillion</i></a>. 1977. Houghton Mifflin, 2001.</p>
<p>---. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16694.The_Two_Towers"><i>The Two Towers</i></a>. 1954. Houghton Mifflin, 1994.</p>
<p>Wells, Martha. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33387769-all-systems-red"><i>All Systems Red</i></a>. Tor.com, 2017.</p>
<p><i>Also Mentioned:</i><br/>
          <a href="https://www.thebards.net/">Brobdingnagian Bards</a><br/>
          <a href="https://www.octaviabutler.com/">Octavia Butler</a><br/>
          <a href="http://nkjemisin.com/">N.K. Jemisin</a><br/>
          <a href="https://www.ursulakleguin.com/">Ursula K. Le Guin</a><br/>
          <a href="https://lz50.ledzeppelin.com/">Led Zeppelin</a><br/>
          <a href="https://www.cslewis.com/us/">C.S. Lewis</a><br/>
          <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe">Edgar Allan Poe</a></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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  <p>
    <a id="II" name="II"></a>
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  <h3>
II<br/>
LORD OF THE RINGS REFERENCES<br/>
<br/>
</h3>
</div>The title for this fic and the titles for each chapter were lovingly stolen (and sometimes bastardized) from <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> by J. R. R. Tolkien. The source for each title is documented below along with commentary from the author about why the quote was selected as a title.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Grad Students (for They Are Caffeinated and Quick to Nerd Out)</h4>
<p>Gildor (an elf) speaking to Frodo about Gandalf’s delay in returning to the Shire:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Gildor was silent for a moment. "I do not like this news," he said at last. "That Gandalf should be late, does not bode well. But it is said: <i>Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.</i> The choice is yours: to go or wait."<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 3: Three Is Company, page 82</p>
</blockquote>Merry repeats the saying to Pippin before Pippin makes the genius decision to go look in the Palantír:<blockquote>
  <p>"So that’s what is bothering you? Now, Pippin my lad, don’t forget Gildor’s saying—the one Sam used to quote: <i>Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.</i>"<br/>
<i>The Two Towers</i>, Book Three: Chapter 11: The Palantír, page 576</p>
</blockquote>I’m actually more familiar with the saying, <i>do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.</i> But I was vaguely aware it was a quote bastardized from something else. When I did my initial search for <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> quotes to incorporate as chapter titles, this was one of the first ones I ran across and, remembering the dragon quote, quickly edited it to apply to Steve. It’s one of the few times I’ve actually had a title well before I finished writing a story.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 1: Here at the Beginning of All Things</h4>
<p>Frodo utters this famous line to Sam after the Ring is cast into the fires of Mount Doom (the second iteration is actually the same scene picking up where it left off, but Tolkien apparently understood that line was a killer ending for a chapter):</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"But do you remember Gandalf’s words: <i>Even Gollum may have something yet to do?</i> But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the Quest is achieved, and now all is over. I am glad you are here with me. Here are the end of all things, Sam."<br/>
<i>The Return of the King</i>, Book Six: Chapter 3: Mount Doom, page 926</p>
</blockquote><blockquote>
  <p>"I am glad that you are here with me," said Frodo. "Here at the end of all things, Sam."<br/>
"Yes, I am with you, Master," said Sam, laying Frodo’s wounded hand gently to his breast. "And you’re with me. And the journey’s finished. But after coming all that way I don’t want to give up yet. It’s not like me, somehow, if you understand."<br/>
<i>The Return of the King</i>, Book Six: Chapter 4: The Field of Cormallen, page 929</p>
</blockquote>I don’t normally title chapters, except to give them descriptive names that help me remember what happens in the chapter while I’m writing. When I moved this story (which was totally going to be 12K <i>max</i>) into Scrivener and began chaptering, I called the first chapter "Here at the Beginning of All Things" because it was the beginning and because "here at the end of all things" is a quote constantly on my mind. Was this lazy and dumb? Absolutely yes, but it is also what inspired me to name every other chapter using <i>Lord of the Rings</i> quotes.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 2: Going Out Your Door Is a Dangerous Business</h4>
<p>Frodo speaking of something Biblo used to tell him:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 3: Three Is Company, page 72</p>
</blockquote>Bucky’s story feels, in general, a lot like this passage, because once he lets Steve sweep him up, he ends up somewhere he didn’t intend. To me, that journey starts in this chapter, specifically when Steve takes him to the Tolkien bar.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 3: Keep It Secret, Keep It Safe</h4>
<p>Gandalf speaking to Frodo about the Ring:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"I should not make use of it, if I were you. But keep it secret, and keep it safe! Now I am going to bed."<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 1: A Long-Expected Party, page 36</p>
</blockquote>And again:<blockquote>
  <p>"I have merely begun to wonder about the ring, especially since last night. No need to worry. But if you take my advice you will use it very seldom, or not at all. At least I beg you not to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!"<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 1: A Long-Expected Party, page 40</p>
</blockquote>Obviously, the chapter title is referring to Steve’s poems, but also Bucky’s crush and his knowledge of Elvish and all the other various things Bucky has been keeping secret. Unlike the Ring, though, keeping all these things secret isn’t benefiting anyone.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 4: Well, Fond Is Not the Right Word</h4>
<p>Frodo speaking to Gandalf about Aragorn:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"I am glad," said Frodo. "For I have become very fond of Strider. Well, <i>fond</i> is not the right word. I mean he is dear to me; though he is strange, and grim at times. In fact, he reminds me often of you."<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book Two: Chapter 1: Many Meetings, page 214</p>
</blockquote>After I decided to make all the chapter titles book quotes, I went looking for quotes that might work for titles. When I came across this one, I laughed so hard because of how much it sounds like Bucky making excuses for his feelings. It’s the perfect fit for Chapter 4 because Bucky is slowly falling deeper and deeper for Steve while steadfastly denying it. (Also Steve <i>is</i> strange and grim at times, just saying.)<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 5: Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow</h4>
<p>After Shelob has seemingly slain Frodo, Sam wrenches all the tears from our eyes with his impassioned plea for Frodo to wake:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Frodo, Mr. Frodo!" he called. "Don’t leave me here alone! It’s your Sam calling. Don’t go where I can’t follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O wake up, Frodo, me dear, me dear. Wake up!"<br/>
<i>The Two Towers</i>, Book Four: Chapter 10: The Choices of Master Samwise, page 713</p>
</blockquote>Admittedly, I have woefully abused this line in the name of comedy. Forgive me. But this quote felt fitting for Chapter 5 because it is Bucky’s own All Is Lost moment when he believes Steve will hate him for invading his privacy and lying to him. (Also Bucky realizes/admits he’s in love with Steve which is a place he <i>thought</i> he couldn’t go. In a way, the title is Bucky talking to himself.)<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 6: Hope Is Born When All Is Forlorn</h4>
<p>As Gimli recounts the three hunters’ travels through the Paths of the Dead, he relates a moment when Legolas tried to lift his spirits:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Heavy would my heart have been, for all our victory at the havens, if Legolas had not laughed suddenly.<br/>
‘Up with your beard, Durin’s son!" he said. ‘For thus it is spoken: <i>Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn</i>.’ But what hope he saw from afar he would not tell."<br/>
<i>The Return of the King</i>, Book Five: Chapter 9: The Last Debate, page 859</p>
</blockquote>Chapter 6 is all about rebuilding hope. Bucky’s not in a good place for the majority of the chapter, kicking himself for how callously he treated Steve’s privacy and fretting about whether or not Steve hates him. But Nat and Becca offer hope, and then so does Steve. He doesn't even yell at Bucky even though Bucky probably deserves it (at least a little). I felt like this quote was the exact right amount of hopeful for this moment. The conflict has not passed, but there’s reason to believe it will.<p>(Also please imagine that after Bucky is reminded of this line, he says "up with your beard" every time Steve frowns.)<br/>
 <br/>
 <br/>
</p><h4>Chapter 7: A Light in Dark Places</h4>
<p>The Lady Galadriel gifting Frodo the light of Elendil (which saved his ass from Shelob, so fucking bless Galadriel forever):</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"And you, Ring-bearer," she said, turning to Frodo. "I come to you last who are not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared this." She held up a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light sprang from her hand. "In this phial," she said, "is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror!"<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book Two: Chapter 8: Farewell to Lórien, page 367</p>
</blockquote>Bucky’s still in a rough spot, waiting for the other shoe to drop with Steve. But he tells Becca about his crush and everything he did wrong, and then Peggy hands him an opportunity to take care of Steve (which is what Bucky has wanted all along). So while he’s still having a tough time, the women in his life are giving him gifts to fight the darkness.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 8: Renewed Shall Be Blade That Was Broken</h4>
<p>From the letter Gandalf leaves for Frodo at the Prancing Pony, a post script about Aragorn tells Frodo how to identify the real Strider, ending with a poem about the heir of Númenor:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>All that is gold does not glitter,<br/>
          Not all those who wander are lost;<br/>
The old that is strong does not wither,<br/>
          Deep roots are not reached by the frost.<br/>
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,<br/>
          A light from the shadows shall spring;<br/>
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,<br/>
          The crownless again shall be king.<br/>
The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 10: Strider, page 167</p>
</blockquote>Bilbo also recites the poem during the Council of Elrond when Boromir doubts Aragorn is the heir who’s going to save them.<br/><i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book Two: Chapter 2: The Council of Elrond, page 241<p>This chapter title came easily since this is the chapter in which Steve and Bucky’s relationship is reforged. Like the shards of Narsil becoming the sword Andúril, their relationship is also transformed in this chapter, going from simple friendship and mutual crushes to a much deeper understanding of true feelings and the possibility that this relationship could develop into something lasting.<br/>
 <br/>
 <br/>
</p><h4>Chapter 9: Heeding Less the World Where Dark Things Move</h4>
<p>How the hobbits settled the Shire and drifted from the thoughts of Men (I forgot that the prologue is 90% info dump):</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The Hobbits named it the Shire, as the region of the authority of their Thain, and a district of well-ordered business; and there in that pleasant corner of the world they plied their well-ordered business of living, and they heeded less and less the world outside where dark things moved, until they came to think that peace and plenty were the rule in Middle-earth and the right of all sensible folk.<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Prologue, page 5</p>
</blockquote>I struggled with naming this chapter (partly because my outline shifted mid-way through writing), but when Steve decided to read <i>Fellowship</i> aloud to Bucky, I knew the chapter title should come from the prologue. This is the only chapter I reread from <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> while writing, and the only chapter title I sought out in this manner. (For the others, I either immediately knew what I wanted or pulled from a stable of quotes.) I landed on this quote because in Chapter 9 Bucky is moving from darkness into the well-ordered business of living. By which of course, I mean courting Steve Rogers. Even though it is totally not a date.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 10: We Could Do with a Bit More Queerness</h4>
<p>The Gaffer standing up to anyone who dares speak ill of Bilbo:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p> "And you can say what <i>you</i> like, about what you know no more of than you do of boating, Mr. Sandyman," retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even more than usual. "If that’s being queer, then we could do with a bit more queerness in these parts. There’s some not far away that wouldn’t offer a pint of beer to a friend, if they lived in a hole with golden walls. But they do things proper at Bag End."<br/>
<i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, Book One: Chapter 1: A Long-Expected Party, page 24</p>
</blockquote>I read this quote out of context and knew immediately I wanted it for the Chapter 10 title. (You read Chapter 10, you know why.) But now that I’ve read it in context, I’m very sorry I didn’t include Clint in this AU since Clint is great at boats.<br/> <br/> <br/><h4>Chapter 11: A Deep Untroubled Sleep</h4>
<p>As Sam and Frodo trudge through Mordor, Sam finds a moment of hope amid the strife:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.<br/>
<i>The Return of the King</i>, Book Six: Chapter 2: The Land of Shadow, page 901</p>
</blockquote>It was important to me that the title for Chapter 11 felt like an end and be something that addressed <i>all</i> of Bucky’s drama. I loved finding a title that ties directly back into the sleep subplot while also casting the wider net over Bucky’s problems. Like Sam, Bucky is not worrying about his fate and fears, and can finally get some well-deserved rest. (It doesn’t hurt that this is a Sam and Frodo moment either, let’s be real. Because "Steve wouldn't have got far without Bucky." What a nerd.)<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Appendix header and scene break graphics by <a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a>  (The header is “himtanë,” or “attached,” in Tengwar, since there is no Elvish for “appendix.”)</p>
<p>Once again, thank you for reading. Your comments are a delight and it's been a joy immersing ourselves in this AU. If you want to say hi to the author or artists, hit us up on Twitter:<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/theemdash">theemdash</a><br/><a href="https://twitter.com/deisderium">deisderium</a><br/><a href="https://twitter.com/softestbuck">softestbuck</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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